Assassination
by ihearttony
Summary: When Tony returns from a two-week vacation behaving strangely, will Gibbs and the team be able to figure out what is wrong before he does something that could destroy not only his career, but his life? Tony/Gibbs father/son.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: I've been working on this forever (well, two months), so I can't tell you how glad I am it's finished! There are 15 chapters, all pretty long, and inspired by a weekend of indulging in the X-Files. I loved how Mulder was always getting in situations where he was somewhat out of it and couldn't quite figure out why and wanted Tony in the same type of angsty situation.**

**Everything in the story is researched as much as I can, and grounded in reality, so no total flights of fancy, just a little "go with it because it happens in spy movies all the time." I do like to stay as close to reality as possible, and as close to in-character as possible, while still exploring all the team relationships, especially Tony and Gibbs father/son dynamic (my favorite topic.) There are a lot of good moments to come as the team tries to help Tony figure out what has happened to him while he was supposed to be on a relaxing vacation to the Carribbean (but I can already tell you he didn't quite make it there!) My boy really does get put through a lot in this. There is some mild profanity (but definitely not as much as you'd hear in a hip-hop song.)**

**Let me know what you think...I plan on posting every two days or so until the end. I hope you enjoy it! As always, your thoughts and encouragement are dearly appreciated!**

**Thanks,**

**TLH**

Time is a fluid entity. It ebbs and flows. It slips through fingers and slides through the hourglass. You can kill it, or try to turn it back. Many try to save it or spare some of it. We can waste it, watch it fly, and never have enough of it.

But in the end it is just an illusion, a concept created by man to count his hours and days spent in our earthly pursuits. It is a marker from which we can look back or look forward, identifying what once was and what is yet to be. It is invisible and intangible, impossible to explain, but it grounds us so we know where we are in the universe and without it there is no past and no future, only now, the moment, and we are nothing but specks floating through eternity.

Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo had no sense of time. It had been stripped from him, along with many other things, but it was perhaps the most important loss of all. The loss of food, water, sleep, heat, even his Ferragamo shoes was nothing compared to losing his sense of time.

There was no way to tell how long he had been in this frigid room. It must have been days, but he didn't know how many. He didn't even know if it was day or night. The room was completely white, the walls slick and colorless, the floor hard and cold, the ceiling smooth as porcelain. There weren't even tiles to count. Only three items broke the monotony; a solid metal door, a single red pinpoint of light high in the ceiling (which he guessed hid a camera recording his every move), and a toilet in the corner. He had used the toilet several times already, staring defiantly at the red pinpoint when he did so; if someone wanted to watch him piss and shit, so be it. This was obviously not a time for modesty.

He couldn't remember how he had gotten here. All he knew was that a while back he had come to on the floor aching everywhere, with a raging headache and wearing nothing but a plain white t-shirt and pajama pants. He had no shoes, no socks, no belt with a secret knife tucked in the buckle, and definitely no cell phone. Since awakening he had seen no one; heard not a single sound. He had been given neither a morsel of food nor a drop of water. There was nothing, just endless silence and the noise of his movements.

It was driving him mad, which some would say shouldn't take too long, but Tony knew was actually an accomplishment. He might carry on a lot, but it actually took quite a bit to really get under his skin. He had currently reached his limit and then some.

Growing up an only child, he learned how to spend large amounts of time alone. It wasn't surprising he spent a great deal of his current confinement entertaining himself, an activity he was usually very good at; he sang songs, recited movie plots, played bongos on the floor. That worked for a while, but none of those endeavors held his attention anymore. He was freezing, hungry, thirsty, and tired; all he wanted to do was sleep.

But even that simple act was denied him. The lights in the room shined continuously, beating down like a cold winter's sun. For endless hours the brightness from the orbs in the ceiling kept him awake, but eventually exhaustion seeped into his bones and he curled up on the unforgiving floor, hugging himself tightly to try and find some warmth. Just as he dozed off, an excruciatingly loud alarm blared, jerking him upright to cover his ears and try to limit the searing sound. The lights flashed on and off, creating a strobe effect that bounced off the corners of the cell and intensified his headache. The pattern repeated every time his eyes closed, forcing him to stay awake and preventing even the small respite he could find in rest. After several rounds of noise and lights, he traveled beyond mere exhaustion into a state of sickening fatigue. Someone was watching, and that someone wanted him suffering.

Tony knew he was being tortured. Not your typical, run-of-the-mill thug off the street torture, or even sadistic terrorist torture, both of which usually involved busting noses, breaking ribs, a few well-placed kicks, maybe even a knife or two. That kind of torture was old hat for him, and he was fairly adept at taking it. This was different. This was covert spy, Jason Bourne and James Bond torture. This was off-the-books CIA torture. Tony tried to figure out why any top-secret organization would want to break him, since this was obviously what they were trying to do. He didn't know anything that important, had no secrets to sell, and he couldn't recall pissing anybody off who would go to these lengths. He didn't think even Ziva's father hated him this much.

None of it made any sense. He was supposed to be on a two-week vacation in Jamaica with one of his recently divorced frat buddies. It was kind of a "Stella Gets Her Groove Back" trip for men. He had been packed and ready to go, his luggage stacked neatly in the corner along with his airline tickets; he even remembered going to bed early so he would be on time for his flight. Then he woke up here, in Hotel Isolation. It was fucking crazy.

It also meant no one would be looking for him. The team didn't expect him back for weeks; they wouldn't question not hearing from him. Not even the always wary Gibbs would be suspicious enough to come looking.

He shifted uncomfortably, trying to stop his muscles from cramping. His mouth was so dry he barely had any saliva left to lick his swollen lips. Tony tried to recall how long a person could survive without any water. Two days, maybe three? He wasn't sure, but after so long with no liquids of any kind, he was definitely dehydrated. There was always the water in the toilet, but he hadn't quite made his mind go there yet. Glancing at the small pool in the bottom of the bowl, he was coming ever closer to that humiliating act. The thought of the people behind the camera watching him lap from a toilet like a dog was the only thing stopping him at this point. He was pretty certain he would rather die than give them, whoever they were, that satisfaction.

The door of the room rattled; Tony jumped at the first sound he had heard in days. He struggled to stand, wanting to meet his unknown captors on his feet, but swayed and fell back into the wall, overcome with lightheadedness. _Definitely dehydrated, _he thought.

"Be careful, Mr. DiNozzo, we don't want you to hurt yourself." Someone took him by the elbow and lowered him back to the floor. Tony looked up into the dark brown eyes of an older man dressed in scrubs and a lab coat. He smiled kindly at DiNozzo. "I'm guessing you don't feel very well right now, so you need to be careful."

Tony cleared his raspy throat to speak, "Who are you? Why am I here?" He noted the two very large and muscular men standing behind the older gentleman, along with a younger man wearing glasses. All were dressed in white scrubs with surgical masks covering the lower halves of their faces.

"All in time, Agent DiNozzo, all in time. For now, we really need to take a look at you and make sure you're doing ok. My assistant is going to check your blood pressure and pulse."

The young man approached him with a blood pressure cuff; Tony glanced from face to face wondering if he should resist. Deciding it would be best to conserve his energy for more significant battles, like escaping, he didn't protest as the cuff was wrapped around his arm. He watched as the young man finished the task and took his pulse. "Both his blood pressure and pulse are high, not dangerously so, but getting close," he informed the doctor, who nodded in response.

"Tell me why I'm here," Tony repeated. "What is it you want to know?"

"Know? There is nothing we want to know. We just want to help you. I'm sure you're very thirsty. Let me get you some water." The doctor stepped into the hall and returned with a plastic cup; he knelt and held it out to the agent.

Tony stared at the cup. He swallowed convulsively at the sight of it. The water could be drugged; it could have any number of poisons inside. His thirst was overwhelming; he wanted the drink so badly he could almost feel it pouring down his throat.

Gritting his teeth, Tony abruptly knocked the cup from the man's hand, sending liquid splashing across the floor and removing the temptation. "No thank you, I'm fine," he said forcefully, giving the doctor what he hoped was a very Gibbs-like stare. "I'm not touching anything until you tell me what the hell is going on here."

The doctor looked deep into Tony's green eyes and slowly smiled. He stood. "I can understand your concern, Agent DiNozzo. You don't know yet if you can trust us. But believe me; you will drink the water I offer you eventually. You won't hold out forever, no one ever does. Then, you'll begin to see I am not your enemy." Indicating for the others to follow, he turned and left the room. Tony heard the lock click as the door shut, leaving him once again in absolute silence. He stared at the spilled water and closed his eyes, trying to convince himself that he had made the right choice and wasn't literally dying of thirst.

"What would you do right now, boss?" Tony asked out loud. He often played a game he called What Would Gibbs Do. Whenever he was in a difficult situation, he would try to figure out what his lead agent would do in the same circumstance. In this scenario, he knew Gibbs would respond just as he was; hold out for as long as possible and try to determine what was going on, and then do everything possible to escape. While considering these options, Tony's eyes slid closed again, his weary mind drifting toward desperately needed sleep. Without warning, the alarm shrieked and the lights flashed, shocking DiNozzo back to awareness. He gasped and ran a shaky hand through his hair. Holding out against these guys, whoever they were, was going to take a hell of a fight.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony lifted his head from where he had been dry-heaving into the toilet; sliding to the floor in a crumpled heap. He didn't have the strength to crawl back to the wall where he had been propping himself up, so he just stayed where he fell. The red light on the camera stared down at him; Tony gave it as much of a fuck-you glare as he could; he doubted it was of any concern to whoever was watching.

The alarm blasted again and the lights flickered; this time DiNozzo didn't flinch. _Old news, boys, _he thought._ You're going to have to come up with something different if you want to get my attention this time. _His mouth was dry as sandpaper, his muscles ached, his thoughts were jumbled. What he would give right now for a watch; he had no idea how much time had passed since the visit from the doctor. It could have been hours; it might have been days. Time was important; once the two weeks were over, someone would come looking for him. He knew he could count on Gibbs for an all-out manhunt. But in his silent tomb, there was no way to tell how long it had been except for the fact that he could no longer sit up and felt on the verge of passing out, which might not be such a bad idea since at least he would be asleep. _Two weeks._ He'd never survive two weeks of this. He wouldn't take a bet on making it two more minutes. _A pair of sensible men's shoes moved into his line of vision. He gazed up into Gibbs' blue eyes. "Get your ass off the floor, DiNozzo. My men do not give up_."

Tony considered this and tried to follow Gibbs' order, but only succeeded in moving a few inches before flopping down again. "Sorry, boss. Maybe if you have a bottle of water on you, or even a flask of bourbon would work right now." There was no answer, Gibbs was gone. The alarm continued to ring, even as Tony noticed his vision blurring and his brain shutting down. For a fleeting moment he was glad for the reprieve unconsciousness would bring; he no longer tried to fight it.

He could hear the door opening again, followed by shuffled footsteps. The shoes this time seemed real enough, and of a more expensive variety. He tried to identify the brand, but his brain wasn't up to the task. The doctor rolled him over and raised him up; his assistant bent in front of him with a clear bottle, condensation dripping from the sides. "Do you want the water now, Tony? All you have to do is say yes."

Tony stared at the bottle and closed his eyes in defeat, the internal battle over almost before it began. He thought he saw Gibbs standing behind the doctor, arms folded, shaking his head in disappointment. _Sorry, boss._

"Yes, yes….. I want the water," Tony whispered. Most of his conscious thoughts had ceased, he could only concentrate on his basic needs, one of which was to drink. Regardless of what his mind wanted, his body wanted to survive. Deep inside, he hated himself for not holding out longer; he had really thought he would. Imaginary Gibbs sighed and rolled his eyes. Tony despised the fact he was disappointing even a Gibbs he knew was a hallucination.

"Good man. You've taken your first step. Here, small sips." The doctor took the water from his assistant and held it to Tony's lips himself. After a few tiny drinks, DiNozzo gagged and vomited the small amount of liquid back up. He groaned and sagged in the stranger's arms. "Alright, now. Just try again," the man soothed, offering the water once more. This time, the few sips Tony managed to swallow stayed down.

"Excellent," he pronounced. "We need to get you rehydrated, but not in these accommodations. Let's move somewhere more comfortable. Gentlemen." The men accompanying the doctor lifted the nearly unconscious Tony by each arm and practically dragged him down the hall.

Tony tried to take stock of his surroundings outside the small cell where he had been confined, but couldn't keep his eyes open long enough to gather much. He did realize they were in some type of house, not a prison and not a hospital. He was taken into a well-appointed bedroom and lifted onto a large bed with a fluffy mattress and soft down quilt. After so many days on the hard floor, he nearly wept at the feeling of comfort against his aching muscles. Before Tony gave it much consideration, he moaned in relief.

Tony's captor smiled at his response. "I'm glad you like the new room. Here, Tony, you need to drink some more." This time when the doctor held the water to his lips, Tony didn't even hesitate before drinking, his natural survival instinct taking over and pushing all other considerations aside. He gulped at the cool liquid soothing his thick tongue and parched throat. "Slow down, you'll make yourself sick," the man admonished gently. When the doctor took the drink away, DiNozzo snuggled deeper into the bedding, letting the feather pillow cradle his pounding head. Part of his mind knew he should be resisting, fighting, demanding answers. Yet all he wanted to do was sleep; it no longer mattered to him who these people were or what they wanted, just that they were finally letting him rest.

Through tiny cracks in his eyes, Tony could see Gibbs sitting in a chair by the bed. _"You're giving them control, Tony," he said. "Don't do it."_

Tony stared at his mentor, wishing he were stronger, wishing Gibbs could understand. "I gotta sleep, boss," he mumbled. "I'm so….tired." Without another word, the agent fell into a deep, exhausted slumber.

The unknown man raised his eyebrow and looked at the empty chair. "It's alright, Tony. You rest now. We'll talk some more tomorrow." Smiling down at the young man he knew he had made the perfect choice this time.

Everything was going just as he had planned.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony awoke to the smell of coffee and pastries. Tugging his sticky eyes open, for a moment he was completely disoriented, having no idea where he was. Slowly, it all fell into place and he remembered. He pushed himself up on the pillows and noticed a silver tray by the bed, covered in a variety of rolls, coffee, water, and juice. Tony eyed the breakfast warily; after days with no food he was starving, but he had no idea if he should eat anything these people offered him. His stomach tightened and released, pangs of hunger clawing the insides of his empty abdomen. The intensity of the craving nearly doubled him over.

"Don't worry, Tony. I doubt if we could drug a croissant," the doctor said, rising up from a chair in the corner of the room and moving toward the bed. He picked up a fluffy piece of bread and held it out to Tony. DiNozzo's mouth watered uncontrollably. He thought back to his Psych 101 class. _Pavlov's dog indeed. _Despite his reservations, he took the roll and tore off a corner, chewing slowly, checking for any strange tastes. He could have refused, but he couldn't see how starving to death was going to get him anywhere. If he had been alone, he would have probably stuffed the entire thing in his mouth at once, poison be damned, but in the presence of his captor he tried to maintain a semblance of self-control.

The doctor smiled as Tony continued to eat. He poured DiNozzo some juice and held it out to him. For long minutes Tony just stared at the liquid, unsure of what to do. He didn't know when he would get a chance to drink anything again, but at the same time they could easily have added anything into the juice. Eventually, his body won the fight and he took the glass, sipping as little as possible. "This is definitely progress," the man said, beaming. "I'm so glad you've decided to trust me."

"Don't jump to any conclusions," Tony replied, barely able to control his anger at the so-called doctor. "Just because I don't want to die of dehydration doesn't mean I trust you." Tony slammed the half-empty glass back on the table, knocking several of the plates to the floor in the process. The small amount of food and rest had given him enough strength to resist his bizarre imprisonment. "I'm still waiting for you to tell me why I was brought here."

The older man's face fell. "Well, I see we haven't had as much of a breakthrough as I thought. Fine." He stepped away, and suddenly the two brawny men were back at Tony's side, grabbing his biceps and dragging him from the bed.

"What are you doing?" Tony protested. "Stop." Seeing what might be his only opportunity, he broke from their grips and bolted toward the open door. The effects of the last few days left his normally quick feet sluggish and slow; he felt himself tackled from behind and driven to the floor before he barely made it into the hallway. "Let go of me," he demanded, continuing to struggle, as his arms were pulled behind him and he was hauled from the ground. A fist connected with his eye, snapping his head to the side; another beefy paw plowed into his stomach, pushing the air from his lungs.

Tony hung limply between the men. "Why….why are you doing this? Why did….you help me?"

The doctor sighed with disappointment. "Because Tony, you are only of use to me if you are alive. No matter what you endure here, I will not let you die." His voice lowered. "Even when you beg for it." He tilted his head. "Take him back to the cell."

The burly men forced him down the hallway toward the out-of-place metal door. "No. No, don't put me back in there." DiNozzo was nearly yelling, panic at the idea of being locked inside again building uncontrollably. "What do you want?" he screamed. "Tell me what you want." The men threw him to the floor of the cell.

The doctor knelt beside him. "We're here to give you what you requested. This is what _you_ wanted. Unfortunately you aren't ready to believe me. But you will, in time." He reached out his hand; Tony flinched as the man stroked his hair. "The orange juice you so willingly drank was laced with amphetamines; I had a feeling you weren't ready to be cooperative. Just consider the discomfort you're about to experience as part of your punishment." He stood and walked back to the door. "We'll return, eventually. Maybe by then you'll have learned to be more appreciative."

_Tony looked over to the corner of the room where he found Gibbs leaning nonchalantly whittling a piece of wood, his feet crossed at the ankles. He lifted his blue eyes to meet Tony's green. "Told you so," he said._

"Fuck you, boss," Tony yelled at the apparition. Immediately he regretted the outburst, because when he looked again, the image was gone and he was totally alone. Even the ghost of Gibbs was better than no Gibbs at all.

His heart galloped and his skin crawled. He pushed himself back against the wall and leaned his head onto the hard surface. Silently he prayed for someone, something to end this nightmare before he completely lost his mind.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Time once again became a meaningless quantity. He paced back and forth, walked round and round the tiny room, scratching his arms and legs until they oozed blood. The itching that emanated from within his skin didn't stop. Tony thought about using the red liquid to somehow count the movement of time, but he soon realized there would be nothing to mark down. How many times he circled the cell? His number of blinks? Counting to a million? It was all arbitrary and random and none of it mattered. Without seeing the sun and the moon, he had nothing to anchor him into reality.

His heart raced, his mind buzzed, his vision blurred. He pounded his fists into the wall, hurled obscenities at the red light. "When Gibbs finds out about this you're all dead, do you hear me? Dead!" No one seemed to care. He shouted, raged, poured out all the energy he had left into pointless fury.

Eventually, as the morning's breakfast of drugs filtered out of his system, he slumped to the floor and waited. There was nothing else to do. He realized then just how powerless he was. The only people who could help him were the very ones who put him in this predicament. A lethal catch-22. He stared at the red dot and wondered again who these people were and why they would even want him. _"It doesn't matter who they are, Tony. You're still in a hell of a mess."_

Tony turned his head to see Gibbs sitting in the floor beside him. DiNozzo smiled bleakly; he knew the old man would come back. "Yeah boss, I know. I know." He felt comforted by the lead agent's presence; he even thought he could smell sawdust and coffee. Calming slightly, his chin slumped forward on his chest; the alarm screamed once more, jarring his eyes open, the whole routine starting again. He covered his ears with his hands, "Stop, stop, stop, stop….."

When the door finally opened many, many hours, or maybe days, later, Tony was curled in a fetal position in the corner, his arms wrapped tightly around his legs, trying to find some level of self-comfort. His brain had decided it had endured enough, and left to find an exotic vacation spot of its own. The doctor leaned down and touched the agent's shoulder. "Are you ready for me to help you, Tony? You have to let go of your past and trust me now; I'm the only one who can end this." Tony stared at him helplessly. "I know you feel guilty, Tony. For Jeanne, Jenny, even Ziva. Work with me and I'll take away all that guilt and self-doubt. This time, you'll be the hero. You'll save them all, Tony, and have no reason to feel guilty ever again."

_Gibbs stood off to the side, a sour expression on his face. "It's a trick, Tony. Don't listen to him."_ But DiNozzo knew Gibbs wasn't there, he was back in DC chasing bad guys and saving marines. The man in front of him was real, and taking his offer was the only way to avoid dying of starvation, thirst, and sleep-deprivation. "Alright," he whispered, his eyes rolling back in his head as he lost consciousness.

The doctor motioned for his assistants to come in the room. He watched as the young man was carefully lifted onto a gurney, following as they moved into another area of the house.

They stopped the stretcher in a large sterile laboratory. Tony was moved from the bed to a chair with the head raised slightly, placing Tony in a sitting position. His brain chose to return from its siesta at the same time the young assistant inserted an IV line in his arm. Tony blinked and looked around, flexed against straps running across his wrists, chest, torso, and legs. He noticed windows lining the top of the room; he saw the outline of people staring down from them.

The doctor pushed the hair back from Tony's face, an intimate gesture that caused him to cringe. "I apologize for the restraints, Agent DiNozzo, but you will see why they are necessary shortly. I do want to let you know how marvelously I think you are doing. Everything is moving along quite according to schedule."

"Whose schedule?" Tony asked hoarsely. "Not mine."

The doctor laughed. "Oh, you are delightful. I really wish I had more time to enjoy your company."

"You said you were going to help me. I don't….none of this makes any sense." His eyes roamed the equipment situated around him; Tony knew nothing that happened here was going to be good. "Let's just talk about this."

The physician shook his head. "No, Tony, I'm sorry. We have far too much to do today. As a matter-of-fact, we need to get started." The aide placed a heart monitor on DiNozzo's chest, broadcasting his racing heartbeat for the entire room to hear. The doctor shook his head at the sound. "Calm down, Tony. Your health is of utmost importance to us. We will do nothing to harm you."

_Gibbs sauntered across the room behind the doctor, drinking a cup of coffee. He stopped beside the other man. "He's a liar, Tony. Don't believe him. You got me?"_

"I….I got it, boss," Tony answered. The assistant pressed several leads to his forehead. Tony followed the man's movements, not sure what he could do to stop this. Everything was surreal.

The doctor looked over his shoulder. "Do you see Agent Gibbs behind me? Is he talking to you? You musn't listen to him, I need you to listen to me, Tony."

Tony closed his eyes and tried to contain the confusion he was feeling. "I always listen to my boss. I always…..listen." He felt like he was floating away, his entire body disconnected pieces. "What…did you….give me?" he asked, eyeing the IV in his arm.

"Just a little something to help you relax and respond better during the next phase of our work. Remember, you have to trust me to take care of you." He turned to his assistant. "Let's get on with this." He pushed a button that lowered a projection screen from the ceiling. "I hear you like movies, Tony, so I'm sure you'll enjoy the rest of the day. What you are going to see might not rank among the classics, but I'm sure you'll still appreciate all the time and effort we have put into creating them."

Images displayed across the screen. "Very _Clockwork Orange_," Tony slurred. "Malcolm McDowell starred. 1971, I believe."

"An excellent comparison, Agent DiNozzo. Except the star of this film is you." The doctor slipped a pair of earbuds into Tony's ears. Sounds entered his mind; the voices of Gibbs, Ziva, McGee, the entire team started whispering to him. At first their words were innocent and innocuous, until they changed to say vicious things, vile things, violent things. He even thought he could make out Jeanne and Jenny. _His mother._ The images on the screen changed too, from peaceful scenes to depraved acts of evil, bombings, shootings, and stabbings. Interspersed throughout the display were pictures of his friends and anyone he had ever loved, of them dying in every horrible means possible. They begged him for help, pleaded with him to save them. Tony tried to close his eyes, but the moment he did something shrieked inside the headset, and didn't stop until he stared forward again. His mind reeled and his head throbbed to the point he was convinced it would explode. There was no way to escape the pictures and sounds no matter how hard he tried to avoid them.

After another unknown amount of time passed, the doctor returned and changed out the IV bag; Tony noticed a red warning label on the side. The man adjusted several knobs on a machine connected to the leads attached to his body; Tony flinched at the low electrical pulse that swept through him. He shook his head and looked at his tormenter. "Why?" he asked. "I just…..I want to know why."

The doctor's face was grim and serious. "We want you to see the truth, Tony." With no more explanation, he turned and left.

DiNozzo glanced around the room for the shade of his mentor, but Gibbs was nowhere, even he had gone leaving Tony in this nightmare alone. Once more, time lost relevance as the images flashed and displayed with unrelenting regularity. Tony called out for them to stop, but he was ignored. No one even approached him. The brain activity recorded by the monitors attached to his forehead showed the first signs he had been subjected to more than he could handle; by the time the doctor and the others entered the room to remove the earbuds, the leads, and turn off the projector, Tony's body was already bucking and thrashing against the bed. They waited for the seizure to end and his form to go slack before removing the straps and wiping off his sweaty face.

The older man watched nervously as his young helper checked the agent's vitals. "Is he ok?"

"Yes," the assistant replied. "Everything is elevated right now, but not so much that a rest shouldn't take care of it." He placed an oxygen mask on DiNozzo's pale face as a precaution. He then turned Tony's head to the side and searched through his hair, checking the small, red incision that appeared to be healing well.

"Good," the doctor said, nodding his head in approval. "We have eight days left; I don't want to waste any of them on extended recovery time. We start again this evening with more experimental methods."

The aide looked down at the unconscious young man slumped against the bed. He knew the work they were conducting was important and necessary, but it still didn't prevent him from feeling a twinge of pity.

The doctor noticed the expression. "Don't do that, my friend. Keep your distance, this is purely science. Don't let yourself get too close to the subjects."

"Yes, sir," he readily agreed, steeled once more to the task at hand which required him to avoid any personal connection to the man before him. "Do you think he's strong enough to take it?" They had failed several times before.

"I do. I absolutely do."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"You're thinking about him, aren't you?" McGee asked.

"Excuse me?" Ziva replied. "Who exactly are you talking about?"

"You know who I'm talking about. You only look over at his desk every ten minutes." McGee sat down on the edge of Ziva's desk. The former Mossad agent tapped her pencil.

Gibbs smiled but continued to work.

"If you are referring to Tony, I am only thinking about how if he were here, I would not have to call the dozens of people on this list by myself. It would be nice to have a little help."

"Everyone's entitled to a vacation, Ziva. Tony had accumulated so many days if he didn't take them he would lose them. Can't say I blame him for getting out of here for a while," Gibbs chimed in, never moving from his desk or looking over at the pair.

"You heard from him boss?" McGee asked. "Is he having a good time in Jamaica?"

"Haven't heard from him, so I guess he's having a really good time," Gibbs responded. It wasn't like Tony had to call and check in with him, although DiNozzo usually did keep in touch every few days when he was away. The younger agent came up with a variety of excuses for calling; that he wanted to make sure Gibbs hadn't retired again, Ziva hadn't shot someone for looking at her the wrong way, McGee hadn't tripped over his own feet chasing a suspect, Abby hadn't overdosed on Caf-Pow, or Vance hadn't reassigned him as Agent Afloat while he wasn't looking. It had become a running joke between the two of them, just what could Tony conjure up as a reason for calling?

Gibbs, however, knew the real reason Tony kept in touch, but he never pressed the issue. Instead he laughed at Tony's jokes, listened to him ramble on about whatever had his attention, and told him to call back in a few days. He figured it was what his Dad would do for him, so he would do the same for DiNozzo.

Late the night before he had actually tried to call Tony, but the senior field agent's cell had been turned off. Not unusual for a grown man on vacation, but still he would've liked some reassurance that Tony wasn't spending his time-off in a Jamaican jail, which for DiNozzo was not out of the realm of possibility.

He was sure Tony was fine, and if he wasn't, the younger man would let him know. He'd be back in another week filled with stories they would have to listen to for…..well, months if the vacation was a really good one. He smiled to himself. It really was quiet around here without the field agent.

"McGee, stop worrying about Tony and worry more about my case. What have you got for me?"

"The marine's mother has given him an alibi for the night his wife was killed," the junior agent explained.

"She is lying," Ziva interrupted, standing to approach Gibbs' desk. The silver-haired man raised his eyebrows at her statement. "Why would she risk her own freedom to protect him when she must know that he is guilty? It does not make sense."

"Unconditional love," Gibbs stated quietly.

"What?" Ziva asked. "Just because she loves him does not mean she should lie and go to jail for him."

"Yeah," McGee added. "Shouldn't she be just as concerned about her own future? If we prove the alibi to be false, she'll just end up in jail right along with him."

"And I guess you two wouldn't put it all on the line like that for someone you loved?" The blue eyes stared unwaveringly.

"Well…" Ziva said.

McGee refused to look up from his keyboard.

Gibbs did not need to mention the choices either of them had made in the past; Ziva's for Michael Rivkin and McGee's for his sister, Sarah. He had made his point.

"Bring the mother in," Gibbs directed. "I'll get the truth out of her." He would do it, but it didn't mean he had to like it.

The lead agent went back to work, thoughts of Tony's silence not leaving, but moving to the back of his mind for a time as he dealt with the tasks at hand.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The woman handed him a drink and graced him with a dazzling smile. She was beautiful, stunning, gorgeous, riveting, mind-blowing. Long dark hair draped seductively over her ample chest, tanned skin glowed beneath her bikini top. Tony removed the umbrella from his drink and sipped, the alcohol causing a nice buzz to flow through his skin. She leaned in and took his hand.

"Would you like to dance?" she purred in his ear.

"I'd love to," he replied, taking her hand and leading her out onto the floor. They spent several minutes swaying in time to the rhythm of the music, his hand lightly caressing her lean, bare back. She pressed herself into him, allowing her breasts and thighs to softly touch him. Her smell was intoxicating. Jamaica had been an incredible idea.

"Would you like to come back to my room?" she asked, her dark, exotic eyes gleaming provocatively.

"I'm right behind you," he replied. Tony couldn't remember her name, but it didn't matter. He was ready for whatever the night held for them, his senses overwhelmed by the sultry woman. If the truth were told, he was way overdue for some passionate, meaningless sex.

She led him to the door of her room, opened it, and stood back for him to enter first. He stepped through the threshold and stopped. Surrounding him was not the warm décor of the Caribbean, but the plain white walls of a cell. He heard the door click before he had time to turn around and realize he was alone. He stared at the handle of the door, afraid to touch it, knowing that when he did the door would not move and he would be trapped inside this pitiless room. With a trembling hand he reached for the handle; when the door wouldn't budge, he tugged furiously, closed his eyes and screamed.

The scream died in his ears as he opened his eyes and realized he was no longer in the white cell, but in a dark, quiet room that smelled and felt familiar. He looked around in confusion, trying to get his bearings. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he noticed his sheets, his bed, his apartment. His head felt fuzzy, disoriented.

_I must have been dreaming._

Slowly he stood, teetered a little, held his hand out to regain his balance. He carefully made his way to the bathroom, where he splashed water on his face and tried to wash the unsettled feeling left over from the dream down the drain. Looking at his reflection in the dim light he was somewhat taken aback at his haggard and worn appearance. _You look like shit, DiNozzo._

Turning off the light and heading back toward the bed he passed his luggage sitting in the corner. He stopped and picked up the airline tickets that sat atop the bags, unused. Nothing had been moved from where he left it….when? The night before? What day was it exactly? His mind started churning as he struggled to find details. He stumbled back over to the nightstand and picked up his phone, checking the date. He was due back at work in just over four hours.

He could remember nothing about Jamaica. He could remember nothing about the past two weeks. Tony glanced down at the unused airline tickets still clutched in his hand, and stared from them into the darkness, dizziness and confusion clouding his mind.

"Where the hell have I been?" he asked out loud. But there was no answer, because he had absolutely no idea.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: I am absolutely blown away by your reviews and story alerts! Thank you so much—there is no way for you to know how much your encouragement is appreciated (and needed.) I hope the rest of the story lives up to your enjoyment of the first chapter.**

**There are a lot of team moments in the next few chapters as Tony tries to figure out what is going on in his head, while a case begins to parallel his own situation. And, of course, Gibbs and the team are trying to find out what is wrong with Tony. It won't take very long for it all to merge together. Oh, and I forgot to mention, italics are being used for character's thoughts, memories, flashbacks, and hallucinations. Poor Tony has quite a few of those happening to him right now.**

**Enjoy, and keep me posted on what you think!**

**(And I really do think you guys are awesome!)**

**With Love,**

**TLH**

Tony stood in the elevator holding his backpack on his shoulder and shifting uncomfortably. He was still wearing his designer sunglasses, attempting to conceal the dark circles and deep bags beneath his eyes until the last possible moment. The cover story he had settled on was simple and, he hoped, believable. He had considered the excuse of a final night of intense partying, but he had bragged about his ability to recover from days of debauchery for so long no one would buy it. Only McGee would believe he was still suffering from a hangover.

Instead, he decided it would be more believable that he had caught a bug during his last few days of the trip and hadn't quite recovered. It wasn't a great story, but it was the best he could do. He didn't worry about Ziva, McGee, or even Abby suspecting anything; it was Gibbs he was worried about. He could just tell the boss the truth; that he never went to Jamaica and had no memory of the last two weeks, but for some reason the thought of doing that made him physically ill. His head was already hurting and he was dealing with intermittent bouts of nausea, but the image of discussing the situation with Gibbs sent these symptoms to another level. He rubbed his temples and prayed he could get through the day, and maybe at some point have time to try and figure out where he'd been. DiNozzo didn't even allow himself to contemplate the implications of not being able to remember anything. The hole in his memory was a black abyss and he was a little afraid to look inside.

"Please don't let us have a case," he whispered, before putting on his best game face and exiting the elevator to greet his friends. Immediately he whipped off his sunglasses, smiled broadly, and turned on a cocky strut. "Miss me much?" he proclaimed to the room in what he hoped was true Tony DiNozzo style.

"Tony! You're back!" Abby shot across the bullpen like a torpedo. She threw her arms around him in a fierce hug that awakened mysteriously sore muscles and threw him off balance. He tried not to grimace at the onslaught of her welcome. He would never grow tired of her hugs; with Abby there was never any doubt about how she felt and he allowed himself a moment to savor her affection. At times, when he was feeling particularly down about something, he considered leaving for a couple of days just for these few minutes when Abby welcomed him back home. This time, the only issue was he didn't know where he was coming back home from.

"Why haven't you returned any of my calls?" she asked with indignation. "I've left you, like, a million messages. I don't care what hot chick you might've hooked up with, I still expect you to have some time for me, mister! What's the deal?"

Tony paused, working quickly to round out his cover. "My cell phone died and I forgot the charger. Since I was on vacation I didn't think it was a big deal. Sorry, Abs. The next time I go anywhere I promise to let you pack for me so I don't forget anything vital." He grinned at her sheepishly, hoping his pathetic explanation would satisfy her.

"Well, ok I guess. But so much has happened while you were gone! I met a new guy, McGee went on a date, Ziva, um, I'm sure something happened with Ziva, I'm just not sure what." Her hands fluttered while she talked. "I don't like for you to be out of communication so long! It all builds up, Tony, until it's a volcano of stuff I need to tell you!" She stopped to take a breath. "You are going to have to eat lunch with me every day for the rest of the week to catch up." She poked him dramatically in the shoulder.

Tony smiled. "I'm all yours, Abby. For as long as you want me."

The elevator doors opened and Palmer came running out. He skidded to a halt beside Abby. "I haven't missed anything, have I? He hasn't started yet?" The slightly built younger man looked at Tony through his glasses. "You haven't started yet, right?"

"Started what?" McGee and Ziva joined the small group; they were all clustered around and he was beginning to feel somewhat claustrophobic. The vice grip on his head tightened a little and he couldn't suppress a wince. He could tell he was missing something important, but his addled brain wasn't up to figuring out what.

"The presents, DiNozzo." Gibbs appeared from nowhere and walked to his desk. "You always come back with presents. Now hand them out and get it over with before we have to shut the whole damn building down."

Oh, God. He'd been so focused on his cover story and the fact he was experiencing some kind of amnesia, that he didn't even consider they would all be expecting a souvenir. Everyone was waiting for a special, hand-picked trinket with a full explanation as to why, how, and when it was purchased. He was so screwed.

"Come on, Tony," McGee prodded. "I bet Ziva you'd bring me a topless bobble-head hula dancer. So fork it over."

Tony's face fell and he shrugged. "I'm sorry guys, the, uh, airline lost some of my luggage. I'll have to bring the presents in when I get my bags back." Their crestfallen looks made him feel like a complete loser.

An awkward few minutes of silence followed. Gibbs watched the situation out of the corner of his eye. "That's ok, Tony. We'll just pick them up later. No big deal," Palmer finally said, hoping to make his friend feel better about their obvious disappointment. "Right, guys? Nothing to worry about." The young man smiled brightly.

"No, Tony, it is not a big deal. But I really did need a new string bikini for summer. If you did not get me one I will have to buy it for myself," Ziva taunted.

Tony laughed nervously. "Look, I really am sorry. I promise I'll bring them in as soon as the airline finds my suitcase." Surely he could buy some things tonight that would pass as souvenirs. He didn't like it though; the lie was already getting deeper.

Gibbs cleared his throat. "Since we have that out of the way, do you think we could get back to work?"

The three agents headed to their desks. Palmer and Abby turned toward the elevator, which opened and Dr. Mallard came rushing out grinning with excitement. "Did I miss it?" he asked, stopping in front of them, his wrinkled eyes sparkling. "Has he handed out the gifts yet?"

"No, um, he'll do that later," Palmer said, guiding the ME back into the elevator, hoping to avoid putting Tony on the spot once more.

Ducky noted their odd behavior. Abby shook her head slightly. "What? No presents?" he asked with confusion as they steered him away from the bullpen and Tony's dejected expression.

The field agent sighed and sat his backpack in the floor. The day was starting out like shit, which was appropriate since that was exactly how he felt.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Before Tony had time to even get settled in his chair, his phone rang, the caller id revealing Director Vance on the other line. "DiNozzo, I'd like to see you in my office," the Director requested.

Tony stood and straightened his suit, finding three pairs of eyes watching him with open interest. "The Director wants to see me," he explained. "Probably something about my vacation request forms." Tony made his way to the stairs, fully aware he was being observed the entire time and having no idea what the Director would want to talk to him about.

"Have a seat," Vance indicated as Tony entered the office. "How was your trip?"

"Good," the field agent replied, hoping he wouldn't be asked to elaborate. The Director seemed satisfied with his terse answer, not wanting to drag out the meeting. Tony crossed his legs, trying to exude an air of relaxation that he didn't feel.

"I want to get to the point, Tony. You've been with NCIS for a long time, and throughout your tenure have managed to display a variety of skills, including outstanding leadership qualities." Vance paused and met DiNozzo's eyes. "I know you were offered team leader in Rota before; the same position is open again. It's yours if you want it."

Tony tried to keep his features neutral, despite his surprise. Jenny offering him the promotion was one thing; coming from Vance it was quite another.

The Director picked up on DiNozzo's shock. "You didn't think I would consider you for this, did you? Believe it or not, Tony, I'm not stupid. We might have started out on the wrong foot, but I've watched you enough over the last few years to see your true strengths. To be honest, I think you need this. I know how much you love being a part of our Major Crimes Response Team, but I think you need a new challenge."

Tony scratched his face, not entirely sure what to say to this unexpected opportunity. "I'm sorry, Director, but I can't give you an answer right away. I need to think about it some." Unfortunately, today was not the best time for him to be making serious life-altering decisions.

"I thought you might. Consider it Tony; nothing needs to be done for several weeks. The team leader in Rota isn't retiring for a while yet. But you need to decide where you want your career to go. I can assure you, any time a new leadership position opens up it's going to be offered to you. You're more than ready for it; it all depends now on what you want."

_What do I want? _Tony asked himself. He honestly had no idea.

"Thanks, Director," Tony said, standing. "I'll let you know something as soon as I can."

Vance appraised him. "Don't wait too long, Tony. You need to start thinking more about your future for a change."

DiNozzo left the office, the offer both a compliment and a burden, trying to fit it into place inside his already dazed mind.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

By late afternoon, Tony had discovered several pieces of information. First, after calling his fraternity friend, he found out that he didn't contact anyone to cancel his vacation; he just hadn't shown. After faltering for a while, he made up an excuse about having an emergency case that kept him from making the flight. His buddy didn't seem particularly upset, regaling him with stories about the plentiful bounty of newly divorced middle-aged women desperate to hook up with a still-attractive middle-aged man.

"You should have been there, Tony. A good-looking guy like you would have had your pick, man. Maybe next time, ok?"

"Yeah, next time," Tony said, hanging up the phone. He had already decided he would never plan another vacation in his life.

The second thing he realized was that no one had seen or heard anything from him in two weeks. Abby had already chastised him for not calling, and he got a mild rebuke from Gibbs himself about his failure to check in. He phoned several of his neighbors under the guise that he thought someone had been in his apartment, but they reported seeing nothing unusual. There had been no activity in his bank account, his mail was still being held at the post office, and none of his credit cards had been used. He even ran searches for speeding tickets or parking violations and came up empty. At the end of his investigation, he found that he had completely vanished during the missing span of time.

The knowledge left him reeling. There was no logical explanation he could come up with. He ran a hand through his hair and stretched the kinks from his neck, but nothing could alleviate the tight knot of fear that coiled itself inside his belly. He glanced at his co-workers, quietly going about their routines with no idea of the anxiety pulsing through his veins. Without warning, Gibbs' blue eyes suddenly met his own. Tony blinked with surprise and immediately broke away from the gaze. After a few minutes, DiNozzo hazarded another look, but the lead agent's focus had returned to his computer. Tony silently prayed that Gibbs' sixth sense would leave him alone long enough to get this figured out.

The third thing he established was that no matter how many aspirin he chewed, the pounding in his head would not subside. As a matter of fact, as the day wore on, the throbbing increased in its intensity. The ache behind his eyes never let up; it was often joined by stabbing sensations whenever he turned his head too quickly, and what he imagined a poker through the eye would feel like whenever he was exposed to very bright light. He was walking toward the bathroom considering again whether or not to tell Gibbs everything, when a sharp pain pierced his skull behind his right ear and spread across his entire head, for a moment stealing his vision and forcing him to grab the wall before his knees buckled.

When his vision cleared he stumbled to the blissfully empty bathroom where he lost the lunch he had dutifully eaten with Abby several hours earlier. Spitting into the sink, he wondered if he might have a brain tumor. His fingers rubbed behind his ear, trying to find the source of the pain; he drew them back when he touched a sore, raised bump.

"What the….." He ran his fingers over the area again, feeling a small scab that was painful to touch. Twisting in the mirror, he was able to make out a red and swollen lump just beneath his hair. He swallowed down a rising panic. He had to tell Gibbs or Ducky or _someone_. But even as the thought entered his mind, the piercing pain returned and he doubled over in front of the sink, clutching the sides in white-knuckled agony as bile built back up in his throat. He was rinsing his mouth again when the door flew open and McGee stuck his head inside.

The younger agent wrinkled his nose at the smell. "Tony, did you finish that paperwork I gave you from last week's case? I have my stuff ready so we can get it closed out."

DiNozzo hesitated. He hadn't even looked at the pile of documents McGee had handed him earlier that morning. "Um, no, I haven't. What's the big hurry? Was there some new timeline implemented while I was gone?" Something in his head was grinding, making him irritable. He wanted to go somewhere dark and cold and lie down; Abby's lab might be nice right now. He'd even be willing to put up with using the farting hippo as a pillow.

McGee was still talking. "Are you even listening to me?" he finally asked, noting Tony's vacant gaze. "I know you had a great time the last few weeks, but you're back here now and we have work that has to get done on real time, not DiNozzo time."

"Excuse me?" Tony asked, anger flaring. He stepped close to McGee's chest. "The last time I checked you hadn't received a promotion. Did I miss that, too? I believe I am still senior field agent and you aren't, _Probie._" The last word was said with little affection. "So if you wouldn't mind tucking your tail between your skinny little legs and backing off, I think I'll head over to my desk and take care of _my _business, which is none of yours." He dismissively stepped around McGee and strode out to the bullpen. McGee followed.

"You know, Tony, maybe you should have thought more about your responsibilities here before you decided to get plastered right before coming back. Then maybe you wouldn't look like crap and would feel more like getting at least some of your work done!" his raised voice carried through the office.

Tony stopped and faced the younger man. "You do not want to do this today, Tim. I am definitely not in the mood for it. The day I need you to tell me how to do this job is the day I'll put in my resignation. I let you get away with a lot of disrespect because I like you and consider you a friend, but you're this close to crossing the line with me. Just let it go."

Ziva entered the room, immediately sensing the thick air of tension. "What is going on with you two?" she asked, folding her arms and gazing at each of them steadily. "You do not want to let Gibbs hear you arguing this way."

"Everything's fine, Ziva," Tony stated evenly. "Tim just needed to get a few things straightened out. But it's all good now, right Tim?" He smiled jauntily. Tony knew he was goading the younger man, but the reverberations in his skull were pushing him to say things he normally wouldn't. "Every now and then my junior agent needs to be reminded of his place on the team."

McGee clenched his fists, barely controlled anger rolling off him. "Yeah, Tony, every now and then I need put in my place, right?" He shook his head slightly before walking from the room.

Tony sighed heavily and sat down at his desk, not entirely sure what had just happened. He looked at the pile of documents McGee had left for him; he should have finished reviewing them already, but he couldn't explain to the younger man why he had procrastinated. He couldn't explain to himself why he had lost his temper over McGee's comment. He felt like a ticking bomb poised to go off and unfortunately the other agent had stepped in his path. Rubbing his forehead, he grabbed one of the reports and pulled it from the stack. He strained to get his tired eyes to focus on the tiny words.

Ziva cleared her throat, her lithe body planted firmly in front of his desk.

"Listen, don't you start on me, too. I'll stay late and get this stuff done. I just had some other things to take care of today."

"I do not intend to start on you. I want you to tell me what is really wrong," she said softly.

He avoided looking up at her, instead pretending to read the report. The words jumbled across the page while the hammer in his head continued to pound away. "I caught some kind of flu while I was gone and it's making me crabby. I'll be ok in a day or two."

Ziva scoffed. "Your problem is not crabs. You are keeping secrets again. I can tell."

A smile ghosted across his face. "No, Ziva, my problem is definitely not crabs. At least I don't think so." He laughed a little at her muddled expression. "I don't feel well and I have a lot to get done, so…..scoot." He waved his hand for her to go.

The Israeli's eyes knitted together. "I am here when you want to tell me the truth." She walked slowly back to her desk. He could feel her eyes on him the rest of the afternoon while he valiantly struggled to concentrate. The pile of reports took him twice as long to sift through as normal, since he found himself re-reading sentences again and again to try and get his brain to comprehend them. By the time Ziva and McGee left for the evening, his head was throbbing like an abscessed tooth. McGee was refusing to speak to him; Ziva gave him one of her assessing stares before walking over to his desk and whispering, "Call me if you need anything."

This time he met her dark eyes. "Thanks," he replied. "But I'm fine."

She frowned and shook her head, obviously not believing his lie.

The office grew quiet as most of the others filtered out. Gibbs peered over at Tony.

"You going home?" the lead agent asked.

"Just a couple more reports and I'm out of here," DiNozzo replied. He shifted uncomfortably as Gibbs continued to stare.

"How was your trip?" the older man eventually asked.

"Good," Tony answered, a bit too forcefully. Gibbs tilted his head.

DiNozzo laughed self-consciously. He hated lying to Gibbs. "I guess it's not as much fun as it used to be. You know, chasing women and all that. It's getting a little old; kind of like me." He repeated the nervous chuckle.

Gibbs stood and moved by his desk. "Maybe you should build a boat."

"Huh?" Tony questioned.

Gibbs shrugged. "It worked for me."

"Just a few problems with that, boss. I don't have a basement, and I don't think my landlord would like a boat in my living room. Plus, you've seen me with wood working tools. I'd probably lose a hand in less than a week, and if I'm giving up on women I'd like to keep use of both my hands. You know, for variety."

Gibbs laughed and Tony smiled, feeling relaxed for the first time all day.

He opened his mouth to unburden himself and tell the lead agent what was going on, but instead his hand flew to his temple, the headache reasserting itself with full force, knocking the words from his lips.

"You ok?" The blue eyes crinkled with concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Just a headache….from the flu. I'll be alright."

Before the lead agent could respond, Vance called down from the balcony. "Gibbs, I need you in MTAC."

"Go home," the older man said firmly.

Tony watched the two men disappear into MTAC to discuss important issues that didn't pertain to him. _Why haven't you moved on?_ The words whispered from the corner of his mind.

It was a question he didn't often let himself consider, but the Director's offer stirred it up again. He knew that if he wanted to he could be every bit as good at his job as Vance, maybe even Gibbs. Different, but good. He didn't know why moving up the chain-of-command didn't matter to him all that much. But maybe it mattered more than he acknowledged. He had grown tired and restless, more and more every year since the whole Le Grenouille thing. It was why he and McGee were at each other's throats so much; Tony was bored and Tim could sense a lame duck when he saw one. Still, Tony stayed.

His assignment as Agent Afloat had left him even more confused. All he wanted was to come back home, to be back with the team. But when he returned it wasn't long until he was discontent again. Maybe this was what a mid-life crisis felt like; the yearning to go mixed in with the need to stay. Sometimes he wanted to see how far he could climb, but he couldn't do that without giving up the people he had come to consider his family. A little bit of fear was thrown in for good measure; without him neither Gibbs nor Ziva would be around now. They had never asked him to be their protector, yet somehow the role was his. He couldn't walk away from it; not for Rota, or Jeanne, or anything else it seemed.

And so he stayed.

Tony eyed the two remaining files and considered just leaving them, his mood having turned even darker. But he couldn't let McGee think he wasn't doing his job. So, despite his pain and exhaustion, he opened the manila folder and propped his head in his hand. Within minutes, his heavy eyes drooped closed.

_McGee clutched his stomach, blood seeping across his fingers. "You let him do this, Tony. You should have stopped him. I knew you didn't care about me. I'm your probie; you're supposed to protect me!"_

_"Who did this to you?" Tony begged him to answer. "Tell me, Tim. I need to know who did this."_

_"You already know, Tony. You knew all along and you didn't stop him!" Tim fell to his knees. "I trusted you. I counted on you."_

_Tony grabbed the younger man, who let out a soft sigh and stopped moving. "No! McGee, please! I'm sorry! I should've done something!" He knew Tim was gone and it was his fault for not doing more sooner. He was senior field agent and it was his job to take care of everyone on the team._

Tony jerked and his head fell off his hand, the dream slipping away. He looked around the silent office, a feeling of foreboding spreading an icy chill through him. The dream was a reminder, there was something he needed to do; he just couldn't remember what.

A prickly sensation danced across his skin. "I'm fine, boss."

Gibbs was standing at the corner of the cubicle; Tony wasn't sure how long he had been leaning there watching him.

"I didn't say anything," the blue-eyed man responded.

"You don't have to; after ten years I can read your expressions like Abby reads sign language. It's just the flu, I swear."

The lead agent cocked an eyebrow at him. Another unspoken message was shared.

Tony shut the folder and grabbed his backpack. "Going home to get some sleep, boss."

"DiNozzo."

"Yeah, boss." He stopped beside the older man.

"Make sure it's eight uninterrupted hours. I don't need my senior field agent dragging in here like he slept in an alley the night before."

"Gotcha, boss," Tony replied, before hopping on the elevator and escaping the steely blue gaze.

Gibbs stood there for a few minutes after the younger man left. Tony had been off all day; he hadn't told one single story about his vacation and spent every moment when he thought no one was looking with his eyes pinched closed.

Maybe it was just the flu.

Somehow, the lead agent didn't think so.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

_Ziva stood with her back to him wearing a silky green dress outlining every feminine curve to perfection. She turned and reached a hand toward him, her chocolate eyes pleading for his help. Bright red liquid spread down her neck and chest, pouring from a ragged gash across her throat._

_She opened her mouth to say his name, but no sound emerged. He knew he could have saved her. He should have saved her. She fell forward into his arms._

_"Ziva, no. Stay with me." Her small hand touched his face before falling to her side, the light in her eyes dying. "Please, Ziva. Don't," he choked out, crushing her small body to his chest. But she didn't move; she was gone and it was his fault. He hadn't acted in time._

_Her dead eyes sprang open. Despite the gaping wound she spoke. "You know what to do, Tony."_

He screamed and sat up in bed, his harsh breathing filling the dark room. Drenched sheets tangled around his legs; a chilly sweat covered his naked body and matted his hair to his head. He crawled from the bed and pulled on a pair of sweats. Unsteadily he made his way to the living room; there would be no more sleeping tonight.

Tony leaned his head against the back of the couch and propped his long legs on the coffee table. He flicked his eyes over to the clock. _12:00 am._

Something was going to happen. Maybe the dreams were premonitions, signs of something to come. He rubbed his head. He had never believed in the supernatural and he wasn't about to start now. This had something to do with the missing two weeks; he just had to figure out what. Absently he touched the spot beneath his hair, the ache never releasing its talon-like grip.

He spent the next several hours dozing and waking, his subconscious dredging up images of dead friends and cold white rooms. The dead whispered to him, told him what he had to do. Tony closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his temples, trying to ignore their urgent demands. The whispering continued even after Tony opened his eyes, forcing him to question his own sanity. Finally, hoping if he did what the voices said he could make them stop, he tossed on an Ohio State t-shirt and slid into a pair of flip-flops, grabbed his keys and stepped out the door.

He sat in his car and stared at the windows of the darkened house. Tony shook his head, trying to rouse himself from his stupor. How did he get here? He had no memory of the drive over, or how long he had been waiting in the cold car, gazing at the quiet home. Why had he come here? To this house?

_You have to protect your team, Tony. _

"Shut up!" he yelled, running a hand through his hair. _4:00 am. _The last thing he clearly remembered was waking from a nightmare and sitting on his couch. The past three hours were simply gone.

_I'm losing my mind. I have to tell Gibbs._

Flipping his cell phone open, Tony scrolled through the numbers, the dim light highlighting the lead agent's name. He wasn't exactly sure what he was going to say, but he had to take some kind of action before he went completely over the edge.

The pain was abrupt and unrelenting, like being shot in the head at close range. Tony grabbed the back of his skull and gasped, unable to stop the sharp spikes that suddenly drilled into his brain. He dropped the phone in the floor before opening the car door and vomiting. He leaned back against the seat until the attack passed and the pain settled once more into an ever present roar.

Was it his imagination, or did his symptoms intensify every time he even considered telling the lead agent, or anyone else, about his situation? The pattern made absolutely no sense. What was it they had called it in his Psych class? Operant conditioning? It didn't really matter, since the end result was that he had to deal with this alone.

Tony started the car and slowly drove back toward his apartment, vowing not to do this again. His mind jumped from thought to thought trying to come up with some idea about what was happening to him and why. A horn blared; headlights flashed and tires squealed, he slammed on his brakes while an SUV shuddered to a standstill beside him. He had driven straight through a stop sign into oncoming traffic.

The other driver cursed and made a few gestures to express his displeasure before pulling away. Tony eased his own car to the side of the road and laid his head against the steering wheel, trying to stop shaking. He watched the passing vehicles, wishing for nothing more than a night filled with peaceful sleep and pleasant dreams, both of which seemed very far away.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

When McGee and Ziva walked into the orange glow of the bullpen Tony was already seated at his desk staring intently at his computer screen. He didn't look up or greet them in any way, but the stack of documents from the day before was gone, neatly processed and filed. Stopping at his desk, McGee smiled. A large cup of coffee and a sprinkled donut sat next to his keyboard. He surreptitiously glanced over at DiNozzo, who had yet to indicate he even knew they were in the room. For a second he wondered if the coffee might be laced with something, but somehow he knew that wasn't the case. It was definitely a Tony peace-offering. Sipping the coffee, Tim grinned broadly when he realized it was exactly the way he liked it. Taking off his coat, McGee sat down to happily remove the sprinkles from the top of the pastry. He would smooth things over with Tony later, in private.

Ziva, muffin crumbs falling from her lips, watched her partner as he sat at his desk.

"Tony," she inquired while brushing crumbs from her blouse. "Did you finish all those reports last night? You did not have to do that."

He finally lifted his face toward her. _He looks like he hasn't slept in a week, _she thought. She noted that instead of his pre-requisite immaculate suit, he was wearing a soft button-up shirt and jeans. _Comfortable clothes. The kind you wear when you are not well. _She watched him absently rub a hand across his forehead and let out a small breath.

"I just wanted to get them done." He didn't look at McGee. "It was some interesting reading. I'm surprised Gibbs let the Mom go without pressing charges after she tried to lie for her son."

Ziva snorted. "Our silver-haired grizzly is turning into a big soft teddy bear. Something about unconditional love."

Tim joined the conversation. "What do you think, Tony. Do you believe in unconditional love?"

DiNozzo leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. "No, Tim, I don't. Never have, never will."

Ziva studied him, his tight jaw and forlorn eyes. "Why not, Tony?" Her voice was soft, curious.

He focused his attention on her once more. "Everyone expects something, Ziva. And if they don't get it, they're gone. Unconditional love is about as real as fairies and unicorns. We'd like to believe in them, but no one's ever really found one."

"That's extremely depressing, Tony," McGee pointed out. "I for one don't ever want to be that cynical."

"Good morning!" Ziva called to Gibbs as he entered the room.

"Not for our dead marine. We're heading to Georgetown."

"On it, boss," McGee replied, grabbing his gear. Tony slowly stood and picked up his backpack.

As the senior field agent settled his cap low on his face, Gibbs got his first good look at the younger man who had arrived at the office even earlier than him. He halted by Tony's desk and evaluated his friend, unable to ignore the black circles and worn features. "I thought I told you eight hours," the ex-marine said with an unpleasant scowl.

Tony didn't answer at first, just looked down at his feet and bit his lip. "I tried, boss," he answered truthfully, before trotting to the elevator, unwilling and unable to continue the conversation.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes and watched the retreating back. Ziva slipped up beside him. "He is hiding something, yes?"

"Yes, he is. And I'm going to damn well find out what. This team is through with keeping secrets." He paused. "Especially DiNozzo."


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Once again, I'm so inspired by your reviews. I appreciate each and every comment, and enjoy getting to hear your thoughts on the story. It's also great to know that so many people are actually reading it!**

**In the next few chapters Tony works himself into quite a physical and emotional state. The question is whether Gibbs and the team are going to figure things out in time to stop him from doing something he'll regret. And whose house is that he went to, anyway? Any guesses? I'd like to hear your ideas!**

**Enjoy!**

Lieutenant Colonel Thomas Riehl had been shot in the head, dying instantly. His body lay sprawled across the cream colored carpet of his middle-class suburban home. Blood splatter coated the walls like a naturally occurring Rorschach test. The marine's wife cried hysterically, unable to accept the violent and unexplainable act of rage she had witnessed.

"They were close friends," she wept. "They were in the same unit for years and played golf every weekend. I don't know why Nick would shoot him. There was no reason for it!" Her harsh sobs filled the room.

Gibbs calmly met her eyes. "Tell me what happened."

She sniffled into a twisted handkerchief and tried to calm down enough to answer the question. "He barged in here, screaming crazy stuff about how he had to kill Tom. Something about voices telling him that Tom was going to hurt people and he had to stop it. Then…." She waved her hand in the air. "Then Nick just raised his gun to Tom and shot him. Tom was begging him not to, Nick was crying and saying he was sorry, but he shot him anyway. I don't understand." She buried her face in her hands and continued to cry.

Tony was photographing the body while he listened to the conversation. He observed the dead marine, a gruesome sight with half his face missing. The field agent's breath caught in his throat as, briefly, he thought he saw Gibbs laying there, the left side of his head a mangled mass of blood and bone, one blue eye staring at him with unbridled disgust.

_"Why did you do this, Tony? Why did you let me die?" _the corpse asked. Fear flooded him, his green eyes widening. He couldn't stifle a soft gasp even though cognitively he realized what he was seeing wasn't real.

"Boss, I…." He closed his eyes and opened them. Instead of Gibbs, it was Thomas Riehl once again in the floor. _What is wrong with me? _ He had taken enough aspirin to stop a headache caused by the tackle from a 300 pound linebacker, but the pressure remained. He gave his head a slight shake, trying to stay focused on reality and not slip off into a world of hallucinations. When he glanced up, Ziva was watching him with an inquisitive expression. He started photographing again, ignoring her pointed stare.

"What happened after the shooting?" Gibbs continued to question the woman.

"He kept saying he didn't want to do it, that he didn't want to hurt me, then he ran. I….stood there a few minutes before calling the police."

Ducky and Palmer entered the neatly decorated room, marred now by bits of flesh and blood. The old ME tilted his head. "It doesn't look like cause of death is going to be a problem, does it Mr. Palmer?" He bent down beside the body. "Someone must have been very angry to do this to you, Colonel."

The wife was led away by a young police officer as the team continued to process the scene. Tony felt like one of Abby's lab specimens sitting on a microscope slide; every time he looked around either Gibbs or Ziva was watching his every move. He concentrated on smiling, moving smoothly, behaving as if he felt like a million bucks. His years of police and undercover work had helped him hone superb acting skills; when he needed to he could be worthy of his own Oscar just for playing the role of Tony DiNozzo.

"Boss, Nick Dunham has a house in Chevy Chase, MD. You want to check it out?" McGee asked, looking up from his PDA as they finished processing the crime scene.

Gibbs considered for a moment, slipping off his gloves. "Let's go," he said, already heading toward the car.

_NCISCNISNCIS_

The small home appeared deserted. After entering through the front door they quickly cleared the living room, kitchen, and three small bedrooms. Tony found himself in the bathroom connected to the master bedroom, glancing into a plastic trash can overflowing with the remnants of over-the-counter headache remedies. The guy had apparently taken every type and brand of pain medication he could get his hands on in some fairly impressive quantities. Tony thought about the trash can in his own bathroom; the similarities were not lost on him.

"DiNozzo! McGee!" The boss' voice carried through the house. Tony rubbed the back of his head absently and turned toward the living room.

"Ziva, you're with me. We're going to scan around the property. You two go see what you can find in that garage out back." He nodded to Tony and Tim.

As the two men crunched along the gravel driveway, McGee studied his partner. "You ok?" he asked. "You've been kind of, um, _moody_, since you got back from vacation." Tim was not nearly as in tune with Tony's emotional well-being as Ziva or Gibbs were, but even he realized something was not quite right with the unusually quiet older man.

"Et tu, McGee?" Tony responded. He rolled his eyes skyward. The agent couldn't decide if having so many people concerned about his state of mind was a blessing or a curse. "I'm peachy, Tim. No need to worry about me." _Just suffering from amnesia, incapacitating headaches, and random hallucinations, but other than that, I'm a-ok._

"The breakfast was nice. You didn't have to do that. I was out of line about the paperwork." The younger man sighed. "You are senior field agent and I….I shouldn't question you so much."

Tony stopped walking and met his gaze. "You've been a field agent how long, McGee? Seven years?" He laughed despite the razor blades it sent through his head. "That's a long time to be a probie, Probie."

"You ever think about leaving, Tony? Taking your own team? Doing something else?"

"Nope. Never. You?"

"Of course not."

"Didn't think so."

Accepting the lies was much easier than exploring the truth.

The garage was old with two bays and a side door containing a tiny window. Tony peered through the dirty panes but saw no movement inside. He carefully reached out and tried the handle; the door swung open with a rusty creak.

Both agents drew their guns. With a tilt of his head Tony indicated for McGee to enter first. Holding his weapon in front of him, Tim swiftly stepped into the dim building, senses heightened for any signs of danger. Tony followed. They swept through the room without speaking, peering around stacks of boxes and an old tarp-covered car, using hand gestures and head movements to communicate. Dust swirled along rays of sunlight slanting through cobweb covered glass, giving the garage a remote and otherworldly feeling. Tony moved into a tiny storage room on the far side of the structure. Tim noticed a footprint in the dirt; he bent over to look at it more closely.

A sound startled McGee seconds before he heard the gunshot. He threw his body to the side, roughly impacting a drawer of tools that rattled loudly to the floor. A burning sensation cut along his side, his hand involuntarily clutching the suddenly enflamed area as he rolled behind the car. Tim lost his grip on his gun, watching helplessly as it slid several feet out of his reach. "You shouldn't be here!" Nick Dunham shouted wildly as he pointed his weapon toward McGee's hiding place.

McGee peered to the side; Tony was crouched low against the wall, indicating with his eyes to keep Nick occupied while he relocated positions.

"Lieutenant Dunham? I…I just want to talk to you." McGee winced at the increased pain in his side, worriedly checking his fingers which came away covered with blood.

"Talk?" Dunham laughed bitterly. "I know what I've done. I might not know why, but I do know what I've done. You're here to arrest me, but I'm not going. I won't be thrown in a cell like a criminal." He shook his head forcefully. "I can't be locked in that little room."

The marine walked forward, bringing the injured federal agent into his line of sight. McGee saw the gun rise again and point toward him; he knew this shot would be to kill. "Please," Tim said. "I'm just doing my job."

Dunham shook his head. "I'm sorry," he replied, but didn't lower the weapon.

Suddenly the marine was flying through the air, his body shoved away, the bullet ricocheting harmlessly as Tony drove his own body into the man's side and they sailed toward the floor. As the two men hit the ground with a breath tearing thud, Tony lifted himself up and punched Nick hard in the jaw. Dunham yelled and bucked, flipping DiNozzo off him, causing Tony to fall awkwardly into the tool box, his head connecting harshly with the metal.

Before Nick could regain his footing, Tony scrambled up and was on him again, brutally punching his adversary in the stomach and nose, a fountain of crimson spilling out. The suspect stretched his hands to reach for Tony's neck, succeeding only in scratching long, red rivulets into the agent's flesh. DiNozzo viciously kicked Dunham in his side, doubling him over before Tony kicked him again in the temple. The marine immediately slumped to the filthy floor, his entire body going limp as he was rendered unconscious. Tony moved to kick him again, stopped only by the sound of Gibbs calling his name.

"DiNozzo! Enough!"

Tony turned, breathing heavily, veins in his neck bulging from anger and exertion.

"McGee!" Ziva cried, rushing to the other man's side. He was leaning against the car, his hand pressed into the rapidly growing pool of blood oozing from his shirt.

"Tony, cuff this lunatic," Gibbs directed, taking out his cell phone to call for paramedics.

Ziva pulled off McGee's shirt to inspect the wound. The young man lifted his hands out to allow her better access and gritted his teeth during his teammate's ministrations. "This is something that usually happens to Tony, not me," he complained breathlessly, trying not to look at the damaged flesh.

"Well you were lucky. It is a graze; the bullet did not penetrate," the Israeli commented, carefully rolling his shirt into a ball to press against the scrape in his side. Even though the bullet hadn't embedded in his skin, it had left a wound four or five inches long and several inches deep. "You will definitely need stitches." McGee grimaced as the former Mossad agent pushed the fabric harder into his flesh to stop the bleeding.

Tony roughly jerked the handcuffed prisoner off the floor. The man swayed, slowly regaining consciousness. Dunham looked at Gibbs, sorrow etched in every feature. "I really don't know why I did it. Tom was my friend. I can't believe he's dead." Dirty tears coursed down the marine's cheeks.

"You'll have plenty of time to come up with a reason," the lead agent stated with little compassion. He looked at Tony. "Good work, DiNozzo. McGee might have more than a flesh wound to deal with if you hadn't been around to cover his ass."

"We finally got McGee broken in, boss. I didn't think you'd want to train another probie so soon." Tony rubbed the back of his head without thinking.

"Did you get hurt?" Gibbs asked, eyes narrowed. He reached into his pocket and grabbed a handkerchief which he used to wipe the blood from Tony's neck. He hadn't forgotten his senior field agent's obvious exhaustion and other signs of not feeling well.

"Nah," Tony replied easily while Gibbs dabbed at his wound. "Just a little bump and a couple of scratches. Nothing to worry about. McGee gets all the attention this time. Right, McWounded?"

Tim glanced up from his spot on the floor and gave the senior field agent a grateful grin. "Thanks, Tony. Gibbs is right; you really saved my ass this time."

Tony grinned. "Anytime, probie. Anytime."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

DiNozzo was relieved when Gibbs accompanied McGee to the hospital, leaving him and Ziva to escort the suspect back to NCIS headquarters and prepare the man for interrogation. Tony didn't want to be under the scrutiny of Gibbs or any medical personnel right now. The hit he had taken on the head during the scuffle with Dunham had been mild, but adding it to his already frightening symptoms left him struggling to maintain his façade. Standing alone in the observation room he took several steadying breaths and pulled a bottle of pills from his pocket. The instructions said to take two, but considering the extremity of the throbbing behind his eyes, he opted for dry-swallowing four. He would've taken more if it wasn't for the queasiness in his stomach.

Tony considered telling Ziva he wasn't feeling well and leaving, but staring through the one-way glass into interrogation, there was something that drew him to the other man. Maybe it was the way he seemed so confused by the situation, repeatedly asserting that he had no clue about why he had killed his friend. Most concerning was how Dunham continually rubbed his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, obviously dealing with a headache himself.

The door opened and Ziva entered. "I thought you might have gone home," she said bluntly.

"No, Ziva, I thought I'd put in a full day if that's alright with you."

She crossed her arms and smiled at his snarky response. "I am still not convinced you are being upfront with me, Tony. I believe there is something wrong with you."

He sighed. "Ziva, you really are worse than a mother hen. Have you heard anything about McGee?"

She raised her eyebrow but allowed the deflection. "They are stitching up McGee and releasing him. Gibbs is bringing Tim back here so Abby can take him home with her. He asked that you begin the questioning of Lieutenant Dunham."

Tony nodded. A part of him wanted nothing more than to talk to the marine, but at the same time he was afraid of what he might find out. He cleared his throat. "Let's see what our murderer has to say for himself."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Lieutenant Dunham looked up nervously when Tony entered the stark interrogation room. He didn't speak as the federal agent noisily pulled out the metal chair and swung his long leg over the back to sit down. For several minutes Tony flipped through the folder he had placed in front of him, letting the silence build between them.

Finally, the handcuffed man could take no more. "What's going to happen to me?" he asked, his voice soft and pleading.

"I don't know," Tony replied equally as soft. "What do you think usually happens to cold-blooded murderers?"

"I….I…" Dunham started crying again. "I can't explain it. I know I'm crazy. Did you ever feel like your whole life was out of your control? That you were being pushed to do things you don't want to, but have no choice? He was going to hurt the rest of the squad and I had to stop him. That sounds insane, doesn't it? Tom was the nicest guy in the world, he wouldn't hurt anybody." Sweat beads covered the man's face. "But the voices…the dreams…they told me what I had to do!" He leaned toward Tony. "Do you understand?" he screamed.

"Calm down Lieutenant," Tony advised.

Dunham laughed hysterically. "I just killed my best friend! I can't calm down!"

Tony extended a hand and pushed the man back into his chair. The agent stood and moved behind the marine, bending close to his ear and whispering, "How long has this been going on? When did it start?"

"A few weeks ago, after I got back from my camping trip. The dreams, the voices, the headaches; I tried to control it, but I couldn't. I…had to help my squad. But Tom, oh God, Tom…please try to understand." Tony could see the pain and anguish that filled the man's soul and he felt sorry for him. He knew this man was a killer, but he couldn't help but pity him. Tony straightened; the man's shadowed eyes followed his movements. "You believe me, don't you? That I had no choice but to shoot Tom?"

_"I didn't want to kill him but I had to." Tony saw his own image fill the chair in place of Dunham. "It was the only way to save the team." Tony stared into his own cold green eyes. "You know it had to be done. There was no other way."_

DiNozzo blinked as Dunham sat before him once more. "I believe you," Tony said and stalked out of the room. He leaned against the wall in the hallway, trying to clear his head, desperately hoping that what was happening to this man in no way mirrored his own fate.

Ziva opened the observation room door and entered the hallway several feet from him, casually placing a shoulder against the wall. Tony straightened and swiftly walked past the Israeli; he could feel her ninja eyes following him until he turned the corner and was safely out of her sight.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony sat at his desk attempting to decide what to do next. The painkillers had provided no relief from his headache; he was once again seeing intermittent spots of light that were accompanied by waves of nausea. Up to this point, he thought he had covered his trips to the bathroom well enough for Ziva not to suspect anything, but if he continued to unexpectedly leave the room it was bound to alert her already suspicious senses.

The hallucinations were scary as shit. He had no idea what was causing them or how to control them. They just happened, randomly, without rhyme or reason, and he couldn't figure out what they meant. His only hope was that he wouldn't space out in front of Gibbs and end up getting sent to Ducky. He doubted he could hide his symptoms well enough to fool the eagle-eyed ME.

The elevator dinged and Gibbs walked out carrying his ever-present cup of coffee in one hand, holding onto McGee's arm with the other. The younger agent's expression was a mixture of discomfort, drugs, and anxiety. Tony was used to being hauled around by the lead agent when he was sick or injured; McGee had absolutely no experience in the situation. Tim's eyes were as wide as Tony had ever seen them; it was a toss-up as to whether it was a result of shock from the gun-shot wound or shock from Gibbs playing overprotective papa bear.

Gibbs deposited McGee at his desk. "Sit," the lead agent directed.

"Ok, boss," McGee agreed with a slightly befuddled look at Tony. The senior field agent couldn't suppress a smile. When the old marine decided to take care of someone, the mixture of a nursemaid with a boot camp drill sergeant created a completely unforgettable experience.

"Ziva, call down for Abby. Tell her McGee is waiting for his chariot ride home," the silver-haired man said. The attractive brunette immediately picked up her phone.

"Don't you mean hearse?" Tony corrected with a chuckle.

McGee appeared even more stricken. "Really, boss, I'm fine. I don't need anyone to stay with me tonight. I'll just take my medicine and go to sleep."

Tony gave him a sympathetic look. "Give up, McInjured. I've tried it a thousand times and it never works. You're in their hands now, and you have no more say so in what happens until you're strong enough to fight back. Just relax and enjoy the ride."

Heavy footsteps from Abby's impossibly tall black leather boots preceded her arrival. She teetered into the bullpen, arms open wide. "McGee! I was so worried." The pony-tailed scientist bent over grasped him around the neck, bringing a whimper to the young man's lips.

Tony continued to observe and grin. It was kind of nice to see someone else on the receiving end of this routine for a change.

"I'm going to take such good care of you! You won't have to move a muscle; just leave everything to me." She tugged the wounded agent out of his chair and toward the elevator; McGee cradled his side with his arm trying to avoid further injury from his well-intentioned friend. Abby waved goodbye. "See you later boss! Call if you need anything."

McGee gave one last look of desperation over his shoulder before the pretty Goth shoved him onto the elevator, continuing to list all she had planned for him during his evening of recuperation.

As the doors closed, Ziva covered her mouth and laughed into her hand. Gibbs shook his head.

The phone on Tony's desk rang; he answered, his smiling lips moving into a grim line. Taking a deep breath he peered up at Gibbs and Ziva.

"We need to get down to holding. There's a problem with Dunham."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

No one spoke. There wasn't much that could be said. In death, the lieutenant greatly resembled his friend Tomas Riehl; his head was shattered and torn apart in much the same way. A discarded service revolver lay close to the marine's hand.

A terrified officer hung his head as the NCIS agents inspected the scene. "Dunham made a noose out of his sheets and was getting ready to hang himself." The young man's voice trembled with his words of explanation. "I came in to stop him, and somehow he managed to hit me on the back of the head and knock me down. He got my gun…I guess it wasn't secured exactly right. I thought he was going to kill me, but instead…..he did this."

The officer in charge shifted uneasily, trying not to display his anger at the remorseful probie. "We weren't notified that Dunham was a suicide risk or we would have taken more precautions. I really am sorry, Agent Gibbs."

"Not your fault," the older man responded gruffly. Gibbs looked at his agents. "Did we get his statement?"

"Yeah," Tony answered, placing a hand against his forehead. "He confessed to everything."

"Did he ever give a reason why?" the lead agent asked.

Tony didn't reply, just stared at the dead marine and continued to massage the side of his head. Ziva waited a few beats before she realized he had no intention of saying anything else. "No, he did not. The lieutenant kept rambling about having to stop the colonel before he hurt other members of his squad. It did not make much sense."

_The bloody corpse raised its mutilated head. "It's your turn now, Tony," Dunham whispered. His skeletal jaw, held together by mere tendons and muscle, clicked ominously. "You get to succeed where I failed." _

The field agent was barely shocked by the talking cadaver; he was growing accustomed to the waking dreams, almost expecting them. It was a struggle not to talk back to the man. He knelt down next to Dunham and stared closely at the gaping hole where the man's chin had been, followed the trajectory of the bullet where it disintegrated his cheek and exited through his skull.

_"Soon, Tony. Soon."_

"He said he didn't want to do it," Tony finally spoke to the team after the marine's eyes closed and his head fell back in place.

Gibbs leveled a harsh blue stare at him. "You believe that?" His tone was incredulous.

Tony blinked, becoming aware that both Gibbs and Ziva were watching him with uncertainty. "Maybe," his green eyes met their gazes and dared them to contradict him. "Maybe I do."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs sipped coffee and stared into space. Something about the case nagged at him; twisted his gut. It should be open and shut; Dunham shot Riehl, Dunham killed himself because of the guilt. Over, done.

But something bothered him. _Why? _Why would a man shoot his best friend for no obvious reason? Riehl's wife was right; it didn't make any sense. Maybe Dunham was simply crazy, but that explanation wasn't satisfying the investigator. One thing Gibbs had learned over the years was that when something about a case seemed off, there was usually more to be discovered. So he did what he was good at; he kept digging. Or rather, he had DiNozzo and David dig.

"Got anything yet, Ziva?" At his question, the brown-eyed agent looked up from her computer.

"Nothing that stands out as unusual. His bank accounts are normal and there appear to be no outstanding debts."

"DiNozzo, what about you?" the lead agent inquired.

Tony glanced up from his screen, and once more Gibbs was taken aback by the pallor of his senior field agent's skin and the dark circles under his eyes. _There is definitely something wrong with him. _He considered ordering Tony to pack up and go home, but they were already down an agent with McGee gone, and it was the critical time immediately following a crime when most of the evidence would be found. The older man decided to wait, corner Tony later, and determine if he needed to send the younger man to Ducky. It was probably better to keep DiNozzo here where he could watch him anyway.

The field agent had found something, but he wasn't very happy with his discovery. At first he contemplated not mentioning the new information. But he already felt guilty about lying to Gibbs; he wasn't about to withhold evidence, too.

"I don't know, boss, I think I might have found a….pattern."

Gibbs stood and walked to the center of the room. "What kind of pattern?"

Tony clicked a picture of Dunham on the screen. "Our lieutenant isn't the only marine who has killed or attempted to kill his commanding officer and then committed suicide. We've had several other instances over the last year following a similar scenario." He clicked again, and three other pictures appeared on the screen. "Bill Sember, Andrew Justice, and Rodney Garrison. Sember shot his CO and then overdosed but didn't die. He's currently locked up in a military mental institution until he's found fit to stand trial. Justice tried to kill his CO but only winged the man's arm. The commanding officer shot and killed the lieutenant before he could try again. Garrison turned his weapon on his CO during a training exercise, but was taken down by the rest of his unit. He was convicted of attempted murder and is serving time in a military prison. Open and shut cases, boss, so no one paid any attention. That is until you look at them all together. They might not be exactly the same, but they're close enough to be related. None of the men had a clear motive. It's pretty weird."

"You are right, Tony, it is weird, but how could these cases be connected? Are you implying that something made these men try to kill their commanding officers?" Ziva countered.

"I'm not implying anything, Ziva. All I'm saying is that when you put it together you have a strange set of coincidences. And I don't have to quote you what the boss thinks about coincidences."

Gibbs sipped his coffee again. "It's worth looking into. I want to know the life history of all four of these men. See if they ever worked together, lived on the same street, hell maybe they wear the same brand of underwear. I want to know if there's a connection of any kind."

Tony ran a hand through his hair. Gibbs was on a crusade; they wouldn't be heading home any time soon.

The headache tightened its hold, mocking his predicament. Several flashes of light shot across his vision, which wavered and fluctuated sickeningly. He swallowed, turning toward the bathroom without another word to either Gibbs or Ziva. It was one thing to try and hide what was going on from them, but puking in the middle of the bullpen was definitely not going to help his case.

The Israeli shrugged helplessly when Gibbs looked at her for an explanation. "Has this been going on all day?"

"Yes, but he has been trying to hide it and denies that anything is wrong with him," she answered bluntly.

When Tony returned to his desk, Gibbs was sitting in his chair. "With me," the older man stated, heading toward the elevator. Tony gave Ziva a betrayed look that said, _Why didn't you cover for me?_

She folded her arms stubbornly as her partner followed the silver-haired man to what might as well be listed as his private office.

"So, you taking me out for coffee?" Tony asked lightly.

Gibbs gave him a glare that would have peeled paint off a wall before slamming his hand into the stop button. "I thought we were past all this, DiNozzo."

"Past what, boss?" The statement wasn't what the field agent expected.

"Lies, evasions, misdirections, all that. When I ask you a question I expect you to give me a straight answer." Gibbs' voice was low and menacing, with just a tinge of concern.

Tony stuffed his hands in his pockets. "I know," he replied quietly.

"Then start doing it! Right now! What. Is. Wrong. With. You?" The blue eyes were inches from Tony's own.

The younger man wanted nothing more than to tell Gibbs the truth, to give every last detail he possessed and let the lead agent sort it out. But he could feel the bile building, the ice pick chipping at the spot in his brain behind his eye. A muscle twitched in his forehead. He just couldn't do it. The words were there, but they wouldn't come out.

His response was something he would have never predicted, never expected, and never wanted to do again. It was as if his body was possessed by a spirit from another world; he could see his lips moving, hear the words he was saying, but he wasn't in the driver's seat for this spectacular scene.

He yelled at Gibbs.

"What do you want from me? I told you I'm fine, now back the hell off and leave me alone! I'm not a three-year old who needs you to change my diaper every time I take a crap! I'm a grown man and I can take care of myself!" He hit the button to start the elevator again, shaking visibly under the blue-eyed scrutiny.

To his credit, the older man said nothing as Tony stormed off the elevator, grabbed his backpack, and headed for the stairwell without looking back.

By the time Tony climbed into his car he was shaking so hard he wondered if his body would fly into separate pieces. He turned the air conditioner on full blast and let the cold air blow over him. The lights were back, shooting around in front of his eyes as stabbing pains pierced his skull. He closed his eyes when the visions assaulted him, images of his friend's deaths and their pleas for his help closing out all details of reality. When the episode passed he was drenched in sweat and unsure how much time he'd lost.

Glancing around the parking lot, he wondered how long it would be before Gibbs followed him or started calling. He seriously doubted the former marine would let such blatant insubordination pass without some type of repercussion. Then again, Tony had never crossed this line before so he wasn't really sure what was going to happen.

Pulling his car out into the faint evening glow, he knew he was no longer going home, but to the place the voices said he needed to be. _I am so sorry, boss, _he thought as he gave in to their demands, his weakness riding along with him like an invisible passenger. It was like scratching an itch you weren't supposed to touch; he knew he shouldn't do it, but he couldn't stop himself. He spent the rest of the evening and well into the night voyeuristically watching the house the voices led him to, planning how he would enter and what he would do once inside. It was the only way to stop this; it was what he had to do.

He jerked, his head falling into the steering wheel drawing him back to awareness. Shivering, he glanced at the clock. _2:00 am._ His phone showed five missed calls; two from Abby, one from Ziva, and two from Gibbs. Definitely not good.He nervously checked his surroundings, half expecting someone to jump from the shadows and demand to know what he was doing there.

The frightening thing was, Tony wouldn't have been able to give them a rational answer. His behavior didn't even make sense to him. The quiet of the night enveloped him and he leaned his head against the seat and fought the urge to….curse? Scream? Cry? Every hour the grip he held on his life slipped away a little more, and he saw himself sliding further into the gaping pit of insanity.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs looked at his watch. _2:00 am. _Picking up his phone, he considered calling DiNozzo again, but after two tries with no answer he decided against it. He tossed the phone onto a shelf on the other side of the basement and sat down on the stool, cursing in frustration.

Trying to be the boss, the friend, the unofficial parent of a grown man wasn't easy. What were his boundaries? Tony was doing his job; he'd actually found a lead to follow and had saved McGee from getting his brains blown out. So Tony didn't feel good; people got sick all the time. Why did he keep pushing the younger man? It wasn't like Tony was a kid anymore; Gibbs knew he wouldn't want someone looking over his shoulder 24/7. Maybe DiNozzo had a right to ask him to back off.

But this was Tony. Gibbs had been looking out for him for nearly a decade, and old habits die hard. There was a nagging, an irritating sensation that wouldn't go away, he just couldn't get a handle on what exactly was wrong.

One thing was certain; it wasn't normal for Tony to lose his temper like he had today. So despite his senior field agent's pissed off mood, Gibbs had every intention of hounding his ass until he found out exactly what was eating at the younger man.

His team, his agent, his right to meddle in whatever he wanted. DiNozzo would just have to live with it.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Ziva sprang up as soon as she caught sight of her partner entering the bullpen. "We've got something," she said.

"What?" His voice was husky and tattered. The morning's shower and shave helped erase some of the frayed edges, but he wasn't even trying to display the usually effervescent Tony DiNozzo buoyancy. When he elected to give up the show, he also decided what was going on with him was none of their damn business, and he wasn't about to get bullied into spilling his guts to any of them.

This was his problem, and he would figure it out on his own. In the back of his mind he realized it wasn't a rational decision, but a decision based on fear. He was scared shitless that if he admitted the truth they would cart him off to the funny farm without a second's hesitation. He could imagine the conversation. _Hi, boss. I've been lying to you the last few days, because you see I have amnesia and I've been talking to dead marines even more than Ducky does. And the interesting thing is, they talk back. So, how was your evening? _Yeah, that would go over real well.

"Gibbs is down with Ducky. I'll explain on the way," Ziva said, uncertain of how to approach him after his abrupt departure the day before.

The elevator ride was quiet. They both faced forward, neither acknowledging the other. When Ziva finally decided to break the silence, Tony took one look at her and said, "Don't." His tone made it clear that he had no desire to talk. He walked into autopsy, she trailed behind.

"Ah, Anthony, Ziva. Nice that you could join us so early in the morning." Ducky was standing beside the partially dissected body of Nick Dunham; the marine's flesh was peeled back and his ribcage cracked open to expose the man's heart and lungs. Gibbs' stood next to the ME with a blank expression; he took a drink of his coffee and stared straight ahead as if nothing had happened between him and Tony the day before. The field agent determined his mentor's lack of expression was possibly worse than being yelled at; he was certain it was only the calm before the storm. His head picked that moment to increase its aching, as if in anticipation of whatever Gibbs had in store for him.

Someone across the room cleared his throat. Ducky smiled broadly. "I'd like for you to meet our guest. Professor Robert Childers; Agents David and DiNozzo. Professor Childers is a renowned research neurologist and we're thrilled to have him assisting with the case."

The doctor reached out a well-manicured hand. "A pleasure," he said to Ziva, his voice silky, smooth. "Agent DiNozzo," he approached Tony and grasped the young man's hand in his own. "I am so looking forward to working with you."

Tony met the doctor's dark brown eyes and felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. With a sickening roll of his stomach, he wondered where he had met this man before.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: I did do some research for this story, and the reference to the mind-control project is from actual documentation I found. Also, the little device in Tony's head comes from experiments that show implanted magnets in certain parts of the brain make people more open to behavioral suggestion. So I tried to stay somewhat reality based! And I have no knowledge of Israeli food, so if I messed up that, or anything else in this chapter, please forgive me.**

**Thanks again for the reviews and alerts. You guys have some of the best and most encouraging comments! Keep them coming, I need the support since this story has a lot more twists and turns to go!**

**TLH**

Director Leon Vance entered autopsy with his customary scowl and air of authority draped around him like a suit of armor. A polite smile crossed his features at the sight of the professor. "I was just informed of your arrival, Dr. Childers. I see you've already met our team."

"Yes, Director, they have been quite hospitable. Dr. Mallard has been kind enough to take me under his wing, so to speak."

Ducky chuckled at the pun, his blue eyes shining with unabashed admiration of his colleague.

"I highly regard the doctor's work in the field of neuroscience so it is my pleasure to play the humble host." The ME made a slight bow toward the other man. "I must admit I was somewhat surprised when the doctor arrived and informed me he had been requested to consult on this investigation. I was unaware of any connection our case had to his field of study."

Vance cleared his throat and schooled his features. He wasn't very pleased to have been called at five o'clock in the morning by the Undersecretary to let him know that he was to give this doctor complete access to any and all aspects of the investigation. It was deemed a matter of national security by the Department of Homeland Security, under whose purview Childers was operating as a liaison. The NCIS Director had been read in only so far as to know the professor was concerned about the possible motivations of the marines for attacking their commanding officers without any obvious cause. Beyond that, the man's purpose for being here remained unknown.

"I'm still a bit unclear as to the professor's interest in this case myself, Dr. Mallard," Vance stated honestly. "I was hoping Dr. Childers might be able to enlighten us on the topic."

Tony carefully observed the athletically built grey-haired man for his response. He couldn't understand his own reaction to this unexpected visitor. As far as he knew, he had never met the scientist before, but the bespectacled older man elicited a strong physical reaction in him. The bile he could now taste in his mouth was tamped down; however the battering in his brain was impossible to stop. His heart raced as he listened to the exchange between Vance and the professor. He licked his lips and clenched his fists, unable to take his eyes off the doctor.

"There is some concern that Lieutenant Colonel Dunham was not acting of his own free will when he shot his friend and commanding officer. I'm aware that you've already identified several other marines who were involved in similar shootings; the possibility exists that these men were also not in control of their own decision making at the time of the incidents. I'm here to gather information regarding this possibility."

"I'm afraid I'm not quite following you, Professor. Why weren't they making choices for themselves? Were they being blackmailed?" Vance asked.

Ducky folded his arms. "No, I think not, Director. I am aware of the focus of the professor's research." He shook a finger. "Dr. Childers, are you suggesting these men were under some form of mind control?" the ME questioned.

The scientist smiled. "I take it you don't believe in it? I'm surprised, Dr. Mallard; the science is well-documented. The United States has a long history of utilizing these types of methods. You've heard of the MKULTRA project? Starting in the 1950's the CIA spent a great deal of time and money to determine the correct way to brainwash someone. Much of the documentation has been declassified and is available for the public to read if you're interested. Of course, the communist regimes had even more success than we did since they operated with so few constraints. It would be naïve to think these efforts have stopped just because the Cold War is over. With the current level of terrorist threats it is my job to explore if some rogue nation is planning to use our own people against us."

Ziva narrowed her eyes intently. "It is not unknown in other countries. Israel has been concerned about mind control as a means of terrorist attacks for years. They also have teams of scientists studying the issue."

Vance pursed his lips. "I don't know why anyone would want to brainwash these men to kill their CO's, none of them held any important information. What would be the point?"

"That's part of what I want to find out. It could be a testing ground to perfect the technique prior to an actual operation. Someone might be using these men to determine the correct processes for influencing their behavior beyond their own free will. You have to admit the ability to get them to turn against their friends and colleagues would be quite remarkable." He paused. "I would daresay whoever is behind this would want to have trial runs before using it against an individual in higher authority, like a world leader. I'm guessing what we're seeing here is rogue experimentation. I'll need to review the autopsies of all the potential subjects as well as their case files and any evidence that was collected. I'm assuming that won't be a problem?"

Vance looked directly at Gibbs. "We're under orders to assist you in any way possible. I don't anticipate any problems. Agent Gibbs will take you back through the cases and get you anything you need. Right, Agent Gibbs?"

The blue-eyed man tilted his head. "Sure, Leon. We're always ready to play nice with the CIA and Homeland Security since they're always so willing to work with us. Just let me know what you want."

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," the professor stated, ignoring the lead agent's not so subtle sarcasm. "I know this is an unusual situation for you and your team, but I am very appreciative of your cooperation." He shared another warm smile with them all.

"You know, our poor fellow here can wait a while before we finish him up," Dr. Mallard patted Dunham's leg. "It's not like the cause of his demise isn't painfully obvious."

Childers stepped closer to the body, his face filled with professional curiosity. He adjusted his glasses as he peered at the marine's head wound. "Self-inflicted gunshot?" he offered, noting where the man had lost part of his ear and a significant portion of his brain and skull.

"Indeed. There isn't much left of his head to autopsy. You are more than welcome to assist if you'd like." Ducky took the doctor by the arm. "But first, why don't you let me introduce you to our forensic scientist, Abigail Sciuto? She'll be thrilled to have another researcher in our midst!" Dr. Mallard led the professor toward the door; the rest of the team followed.

DiNozzo watched them leave, wondering if his amped up anxiety was obvious to everyone in the room; he relaxed a little when he realized no one was paying any extra attention to him. Vance gave him a nod as he left autopsy; Tony returned the Director's gesture with a tight and uncomfortable smile.

The field agent held back, trying to wait until Gibbs was headed out of the morgue. When the silver-haired man did not move, DiNozzo hurried forward in an attempt to avoid the lead agent.

"Not so fast, DiNozzo."

Tony stopped and sighed. "Look, boss…."

"You were out of line yesterday, Tony. But I don't want an apology."

"You don't?" Tony's confusion was impossible to conceal. The fact that Gibbs was handling this in a very calm and reasonable way was itself disconcerting.

"Nope. You're going to let Ducky check you out."

Tony couldn't let that happen. "I'm fine, boss, there's no need to bother Ducky. He's got this big-time scientist to entertain; don't waste his time with me when nothing's wrong. I'm just really tired 'cause I haven't slept well since my trip. I'll get straightened up. Give me a couple of days; if I'm not feeling any better I promise I'll go to Ducky myself."

Gibbs appraised his senior field agent. He knew Tony was stonewalling, he just didn't know why. "With McGee hurt I can't afford to have you go out on me, too. I need you at 100% Tony, and you haven't even been close to that the past few days." He decided to dance around the fact he was really concerned that something might actually be wrong with the younger man. Over the years he had learned it was best to avoid direct contact with a skittish DiNozzo.

"You seem to forget that I saved McGee from certain death yesterday, so I'm still good for something." Tony tried not to appear sulky. "Just….give me some space for a while, ok? I'm fine. Really. Fine."

There was no way in hell he was going to let Gibbs find out just how close to the edge he was; he'd be in a hospital before he could blink.

Gibbs considered his agent's argument, trying to walk the thin line between respecting Tony and knowing when to take matters into his own hands if the obstinate man refused to take care of himself. Tony had struck a chord the day before when he demanded to not be treated like a child; maybe this was something personal and he needed to let DiNozzo have some time to work it out on his own. "You have 24 hours to see Ducky and report back to me; but between now and then if I see you stumbling around here like you're half-dead we're by-passing autopsy and heading straight to the ER. No arguments. Clear?"

"Crystal, boss," Tony said, grateful to have won a tiny reprieve. He turned on his heel and escaped autopsy before Gibbs had a chance to change his mind, deciding to head toward the relative safety of his desk. He was in such a hurry to flee from his boss he nearly ran over Palmer before getting on the elevator. The sight of the skinny ME's assistant gave him an idea; he grabbed Palmer by the shirt and pulled his surprised colleague back into the elevator with him.

"Tony, uh, Dr. Mallard wants me to get back in there with Lieutenant Dunham. What exactly are you doing?" he asked nervously. Tony was still gripping the front of his pea green scrubs; the older man waited for the silver doors to slide shut.

"I need your help, Palmer. I have a slight… medical issue I need to discuss."

"I thought you went to Dr. Mallard as your primary physician, Tony? Why not talk to him? Are you not feeling well?"

Tony smacked the button to stop the elevator. "I can't talk to him; he'd just run back to Gibbs and spill his guts. I need someone I can trust. Can I trust you, Jimmy?"

Palmer straightened his glasses. "Of course you can trust me, Tony. We're pals, right? I'm Black Lung, remember?"

"Exactly," Tony agreed. "Ok, here's the deal. I haven't slept for, I don't know how long, but it's been days. And I have these headaches that won't go away. Fricken' monster headaches, like someone's drilling into my skull with a jackhammer. And there's these dancing lights." Tony waved his fingers in front of Jimmy to illustrate. "After those I usually puke my insides out."

Palmer was listening closely. "Anything else?"

Tony paused. He didn't want to say too much, not even to Palmer. "I've kind of been forgetting some stuff. I'll be somewhere and I have no idea how I got there, how long I've been there, things like that."

"A fugue state," Jimmy said thoughtfully. "That's what we call the memory loss you're describing, a fugue state," the young man explained, his brows knitting together.

"I know that Jimmy. Now just tell me what to do about it."

The medical student spoke plainly. "You really need to see a doctor, Tony. You could have a tumor or some other neurological disorder. These are serious symptoms you're describing."

Tony shook his head despite the soreness. "No doctors, Jimmy. I hate doctors. Except for you and Ducky, of course, but you don't really count since you're not actually a doctor yet. And maybe Brad Pitt, but I'm not even sure about him sometimes. Anyway, tell me how to get rid of the symptoms."

"I don't really know what to suggest, Tony. Maybe you just need to get some sleep; exhaustion can cause the mind to do a lot of strange things. You could take a couple of over the counter sleeping aids and see if that helps. You ever try them?"

"Nah. You know I don't like to take pills." Tony scrubbed his hand over his tired features.

"Well, give it a shot and see if forcing your body to rest helps. If it doesn't, you're going to have to see Dr. Mallard." Palmer's tone was concerned but firm.

"Now you sound like Gibbs," Tony growled.

Palmer's face lit up with a big smile. "I do?" he asked, obviously pleased by the comparison.

Tony rolled his eyes and hit the start button. As the elevator moved, he reminded his young friend, "This is just between us, Palmer. Say a word to anyone and you'll end up in one of Ducky's autopsy drawers with a toe-tag for identification."

Jimmy swallowed audibly. "Got it, Tony. Just between us."

Watching Tony place a steadying hand on the shiny wall before slowly exiting the lift, Palmer hoped he wasn't making a huge mistake by keeping Tony's secret.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"So, what have we got?" the blue-eyed agent asked later in the day.

Ziva and Tony raised their eyes to meet the older man's. Ziva stood and activated the center screen. "Childers is a Harvard-trained doctor with a specialization in neurology. He was recruited by several military divisions, but ended up working closely with the CIA on multiple undisclosed black-op assignments spanning several decades, the most well-known being this MKULTRA project. Much of his career has been spent associated with highly classified operations, so his movements are difficult to follow. He has maintained a connection to Harvard and several other universities where he conducts research, teaches courses, and publishes his findings. The professor appears to be highly respected and sought after in his area of expertise, which focuses heavily on how to influence patterns of behavior and control the mind through behavioral techniques in combination with drug therapy and some surgical procedures."

Tony listened to Ziva's report and watched silently as pictures of the doctor advanced across the screen. _Another image flashed before his eyes; he was lying face down on a table, unable to move, there was a tube in his throat and someone leaned forward to tape his eyes shut. He wanted to scream but couldn't as he felt pressure on his neck behind his ear…_

"DiNozzo!" Tony jumped, knocking a cup of pencils and paperclips into the floor. He gasped and glanced around him, aware of his surroundings again. Gibbs stood and walked menacingly across the floor toward the senior field agent, the look of bewilderment and fear in the green eyes the only thing stopping him from ripping into the younger man. When the silver-haired agent spoke, his voice was much softer and kinder than Tony expected. "Are you with us, DiNozzo?'

Tony cleared his throat. "Yeah, boss, just….wondering if any of this stuff could be true. What do you think? Could it really happen or is it only something you see in the movies?"

While waiting for the lead agent's answer, DiNozzo gingerly touched the spot behind his ear trying to determine what was causing it. Pressing hard, a lance of pain shot through his brain, but he realized he could feel the rough edge of stitches around the quarter-sized area. He fought the urge to run directly for the bathroom to try and look at it again. _What the hell did someone do to me?_

Gibbs worked the stiffness out of his neck. "Torture and manipulation have been around for years. But brainwashing? I have a hard time buying it."

"Why would they want to wash your brain? I thought we were discussing mind control?" Ziva asked.

"We are," Tony explained. "It's called brainwashing; they don't really wash your brain, they….." He shrugged when he couldn't come up with a way to communicate the concept to her and he was too tired to try. "Never mind."

Ziva continued. "You, Tony, would require a brain to wash. But Gibbs, do you think someone could ever control your mind?"

The blue eyes twinkled. "I'd like to see them try."

"You might be surprised, Agent Gibbs. Sometimes the most strong-willed subjects are the easiest to manipulate. They have many deep-seated beliefs that can be influenced and controlled. Those who believe in nothing are the more difficult participants." Childers commented as he walked into the room.

"You talk as if you've actually done this to people. It sounds to me like a cruel way to conduct research," Gibbs remarked.

"I made most of my observations as a young assistant working on projects years ago. It would be extremely difficult to get anything like this approved now. I devise most of my theories as an academician using computer simulations and laboratory animals. That's why an opportunity like this is so important to me." He raised a bemused eyebrow at his picture on the screen. "Checking me out?"

Gibbs smiled. "It seemed like a good idea."

The professor laughed. "A healthy dose of mistrust can serve one well. What I came for was of much more importance. I don't suppose you could tell me where I might find a decent cup of coffee? I'm afraid it's my one vice that I indulge in far too often."

The lead agent lifted the cup in his hand. "I think I can handle that request. Follow me." The two men walked toward the elevator. "DiNozzo, David, pull up the other cases and compile summaries. Have reports ready for the good professor when we get back." When the agents didn't start immediately, he added, "One hour. Move."

"On it, boss," Tony called, standing up quickly and grabbing his desk for support. Before Ziva could speak, he gave her a _don't fuck with me_ look and sat back down, logging on to his computer to start accessing the requested cases. She frowned but let him be.

Sixty minutes later the reports were completed and stacked on Gibbs' desk. Tony sighed and let his fingers dance across the spot in his hair, deciding he didn't want to be around when the doctor and Gibbs returned.

"Tell the boss I went home," he said, rising slowly this time to avoid a repeat of his previous weak-kneed performance.

"Not so fast, mister." Abby stepped in front of him, crossing her arms. She was wearing a long black leather coat and held her keys in her hand. "You are going aren't you?" she asked.

"Where?" All he wanted was to go home and finally try to get some sleep not interrupted by nightmares or fugue states. He was seriously considering Palmer's idea about taking sleeping pills to see if that would help.

"We are going to visit McGee and make him dinner," Ziva reminded her partner. _Had she told him that earlier? Damn, he couldn't remember. His memory was about as reliable as a sieve._

Tony tried to think of an excuse not to go. A wave of exhaustion passed over him and he wasn't sure he could he even get home without passing out. "I don't think I'm going to make it tonight. You two go and I'll stop by to see him tomorrow."

"Oh, no you don't, Anthony DiNozzo." Abby clutched his arm. "We're always there when you get injured and we're doing the same thing for Tim. Granted, his injury isn't that serious, but he still needs our support. No way are you not showing up."

Sighing, Tony knew he couldn't argue with Abby; it was best to give in now and avoid prolonging the agony. She was also correct that he should go see McGee. It was the probie's first time getting shot, and the younger agent deserved a visit. "Alright, Abs. I'll go." He supplied a wan smile. "But only if Ziva's cooking." His green eyes met the Israeli's apologetically; Tony knew he had been a moody son-of-a-bitch and he felt bad that she had to put up with him.

Ziva took his other arm. "Of course I'm cooking. You can keep McGee company and let Abby and me take care of the rest." He was thankful for the forgiveness he saw in her eyes.

Gibbs and Childers returned as the agents prepared to leave.

"Oh, hey boss. We're heading over to hang out with Tim. Do you need anything else tonight?"

"No, Abs. You tell McGee to take it easy."

The doctor was carrying two cups of coffee. He held them out to Tony and Ziva. "It looked like you were in for a long night, so I brought you these. I'm sorry, Ms. Sciuto, I didn't know you would be here."

"No problem, Doc. I'll stop and get a Caf-Pow on the way to Timmy's."

Ziva said thanks and sipped her cappuccino. Tony took his, but stared at it momentarily without drinking, an ominous sense of déjà vu creeping along his nerve endings.

"What's wrong?" Gibbs asked. "I told the doc the way you like it, so he made sure to put some of that hazelnut crap or whatever in it."

"Oh, right. Thanks." Tony took a cautious swallow, determined to prove to himself he was just being paranoid. "Yum," he said, not sure why he felt so nervous about taking the cup from the seemingly harmless professor. He felt the older man's eyes on him when he sipped the warm liquid. He thought he noticed a slightly bitter taste, but it was hard to tell with all the cream, sugar, and syrup.

_Stop being crazy,_ he admonished himself.

"Get out of here," Gibbs ordered. "We'll start again early in the morning."

"Gotcha, boss," Abby replied with a mock salute. "We're off to see our fallen comrade!"

"You're a lucky man, Agent Gibbs. They seem like a fine team," Childers commented after they left.

The lead agent smiled as he found the four neatly stacked reports on his desk. He picked them up and handed them to the professor. "You won't find any better."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

It took several minutes for McGee to make it to the door after Abby rang the bell. Tony watched as his partner braced himself prior to the Goth's enveloping hug. "Hey guys, you know this isn't necessary. I could just microwave something," McGee explained, following stiffly behind them into the living room.

"Nonsense," Ziva scoffed before depositing several bags of groceries in the kitchen and starting a search for cooking supplies. From somewhere within her voluminous purse Abby produced an apron and a chef's hat.

McGee seated himself carefully on the couch. "You look beautiful, Abby."

"Thank you, Tim. I find that it helps the cooking process if I look the part." She grinned mischievously and twirled in a circle.

Tony flopped down in a lounge chair. "So what are we having? Israeli fusion or New Orleans creole?" He tried to sound excited about the meal, but honestly had no appetite at all. A slight halo had appeared around everything during the drive over, and he felt vaguely disconnected and light-headed. But he didn't want to disappoint his friends, so he did his best to play the role they expected.

"We are having a tabouli salad, latkes, and a lokshen kugel," Ziva answered from the kitchen.

"Sounds delicious," Tony commented and made a face at McGee. "Can't you guys do anything simple, like a pizza?"

"I saw that face, Tony! Why eat pizza when you can have an incredible home-cooked ethnic meal like this?" Abby asked.

"Pizza is ethnic; it's Italian!" Tony defended.

"Why don't you entertain McGee and let us worry about the food, DiNozzo," Abby declared, going back into the kitchen to join Ziva.

"So how does it feel, McVirgin?" the senior field agent asked his friend. Tony rested his head on the back of the chair and closed his eyes while he talked.

"I have no idea what you mean, Tony."

"Your first time, Tim. Getting shot. How do you feel? Are you glad you got it over with? It's a lot better than my first time, I can tell you that." Tony still didn't open his eyes.

McGee rubbed his heavily bandaged side. "It still hurts a lot. I've seen you get shot, beat up, knocked out….have you been stabbed yet?"

"Back in Baltimore," Tony replied quietly.

"Anyway, you usually keep right on going. I never imagined it was actually this painful."

"I would say you'll get used to it, but hopefully you won't." His voice was dark; haunted.

The junior agent leaned forward so Tony could hear his whisper. "Abby, Ducky, Gibbs, they won't leave me alone! Gibbs even stopped by this morning with breakfast. Not that I'm complaining, but at some point I'd just like to lie here and not be fussed over. It's a little overwhelming."

"It'd be worse to be alone, probie. Trust me." Tony's tone held an edge of pain and sadness. "Don't ever take all of this for granted. Having this many people care about you is really pretty special."

Ziva and Abby giggled loudly, their laughter making Tim smile. "You're right, Tony. Even when it's annoying, I guess it's still nice. Wanna watch a movie?"

Tony grinned, his eyes remaining closed. "Sure, Tim. You pick."

"McGee scrolled through the cable guide. What about _Space Cowboys? _I know how much you like Tommy Lee Jones and Clint Eastwood."

"Good choice, McGoo. My taste is finally starting to rub off on you."

"Something like that," McGee replied with a grin and started the movie.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

DiNozzo didn't bother to turn on the lights in his apartment. Dinner had been good, what little he'd managed to eat of it, and the movie was nice, but it made for an extremely long evening that he didn't have the heart for. Add in the spontaneous trip to Wal-Mart and he felt dead on his feet. He tossed his keys and wallet on the coffee table and dumped the contents of the plastic bag on the kitchen counter. He grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator and picked up one of the small boxes, reading the directions.

The words were too small. Tony rubbed his weary eyes with the back of his hand and tried again to make out the fine print. When it didn't help he growled with frustration. He had to go to sleep, preferably a sleep without dreams of his friends dying and begging for his help when he couldn't figure out exactly what they wanted him to do anyway. He also didn't want to take another nighttime drive; sooner or later that was going to turn out very bad for both him and the homeowner he was watching, since it was getting more and more difficult to ignore the voices that urged him to do more than play stalker. Tonight he was going to rest, even if he had to drug himself to do it. Without much thought he started punching pills out of the thin silver wrappers, letting them hit the table as they were released.

He looked at the small pile of sleep aids and sighed. This was probably not a good idea, but the possibility of spending another night in the grip of endless nightmares was beyond his endurance. He grabbed nine or ten of the pills and swallowed them quickly before he could change his mind, chugging from the water bottle to wash them down. A bottle of migraine medicine was also in the bag, and he popped the lid off it and poured several of those pills into his mouth as well. _If Gibbs knew what I was doing he would totally kick my ass. Hell, Ducky would probably help him._

Stripping off his clothes he tossed them into a pile in the corner of his bedroom and crawled into bed wearing nothing but his scarlet and grey Brutus the Buckeye boxers. He placed his phone on the nightstand, checked his alarm and sank back in the pillows, waiting as his breathing slowed. Images of Lieutenant Dunham swam through his mind, the marine's head blasted open and part of his brain spilling out, busted and bleeding lips moving as he whispered, _"It's up to you now, Tony. It's all up to you."_

"No," Tony mumbled. "No, I won't do it. I won't kill him….." The medication did its work and his eyes slowly closed, not re-opening, tugging him down into a cocoon of quiet darkness.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs dropped Doctor Childers at his hotel, pulling quickly out of the parking lot towards home. The ex-marine had a natural dislike of anyone who spent significant time with the CIA and working black ops, and the professor was no exception. He intended to keep a close eye on the man until the professor had the information he wanted and was ready to move on.

Stopping at a red light, his mind wandered to Tony. The field agent had been acting, for want of a better word, somewhat hinky. DiNozzo's protests that he was tired and had the flu didn't ring true. Something in Gibbs' gut called for attention; the silver-haired man flipped out his phone and dialed DiNozzo's number. After several rings the call went to voice mail.

He ended the call and immediately dialed Abby. "Hey, bossman!" she answered. "What's up?"

"How's McGee?"

"We left him stuffed with Ziva's delicious food and sleeping like a baby. He'll probably get cleared to come back to work in a day or two."

"DINozzo go with you guys?"

"Yeah, but he was pretty zonked. Way out of it boss, sort of day-dreamy. I'm getting worried about him. Is something wrong?"

"I don't know Abs. My gut says maybe. Did he go home?"

"That's what he said." Her voice tightened with concern. "Should I go see if he's ok?"

"Nah, I'm already out, I'll do it. I'll call ya if there's a problem."

He hung up, tossed the phone in the passenger seat and used both hands to make a u-turn, speeding down the darkened street toward Tony's apartment building. Abby's comments only confirmed what his gut was already telling him. He wouldn't let Tony sweet-talk him this time.

Whatever the hell was wrong with DiNozzo, it was damn well time he found out the truth.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The pills had certainly helped Tony sleep; the problem was they wouldn't let him wake. He was caught in the midst of a never-ending nightmare. A part of his brain knew it was asleep and knew he needed to wake up, but his eyes were sealed shut and the small, functioning area of his mind had no ability to make them open. The rest of his brain was raging uncontrollably, roaming across every horror movie and depraved crime scene the agent had ever seen. He was trapped in a maze, sadistic characters and crazed convicts attacking him at every turn.

In the center of the maze stood a faceless doctor directing him to kill the man responsible for it all, the man whose death would end his own torment. Tony ran from them, but never made it far before he was stopped or caught by the maniacs in the maze. He alternately whimpered and cried for help, kicking at the blankets, trying to free himself from his pursuer's imaginary grip. The ringing phone lay on the dresser by his bed, unheard and unanswered.

Gibbs waited outside the apartment door and tried to call his agent one more time. He could hear the faint ring from somewhere inside, but Tony didn't pick up. A shiver ran down his spine as he swore he heard DiNozzo yell for help.

The lead agent dug the spare key out of his pocket and opened the door, gun drawn. His experienced blue eyes darted around the well-decorated yet masculine space, immediately searching for any signs of foul play. He saw none, but quickly noticed the pill boxes and bottles haphazardly strewn across the kitchen counter. Sliding the safety on his weapon he placed it on the marbled surface and picked up one of the boxes; it was obvious to him what his senior field agent had done. "Dammit, DiNozzo," he groused.

A strangled cry came from down the hall, followed by the sound of something falling and breaking glass. "Stop! I won't do it! Stop!" _DiNozzo._ Gibbs dropped the package and ran down the hall to Tony's bedroom.

His agent lay in the bed kicking and struggling against some unseen enemy. Sheets and bedding twisted around his legs; he flailed his arms in an effort to push away something that didn't actually exist. A lamp lay shattered in the floor.

"I won't do it! I won't do it!" The younger man's anguished screams and lined face revealed the terror he felt at something, or someone, he was at war with.

Gibbs moved forward cautiously, aware that Tony's eyes were firmly shut. Waking DiNozzo from this type of dream could be dangerous for both him and Tony. Several of the boys in his combat units had suffered from debilitating night terrors; Gibbs had received many split lips and black eyes while trying to get them under control. He never imagined he might one day be doing the same thing for Tony.

"DiNozzo," he said quietly. "Wake up, Tony."

The agent pushed himself further toward the head of the bed. "Don't hurt them, please don't hurt them," he begged, his tone broken and pleading.

Gibbs reached out carefully and placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. "No one's going to get hurt, Tony, but you have to open your eyes."

"Don't touch me!" Tony yelled unexpectedly, flinging out a fist and catching Gibbs squarely on the chin. The lead agent rocked back and reflexively rubbed his aching jaw.

"That's enough!" he roared. The silver-haired man swiftly slid down on the bed and behind the other agent, wrapping his arms around Tony from behind, effectively restricting DiNozzo's movements.

The sleeping man struggled to free himself. "I can't…I can't….I don't want to…." He was panting heavily, pulling heaving gulps of air into his lungs. His head tossed back and forth against the older man's chest as he fought to break the grip holding him tight. Long fingers dug into Gibbs' wrists, drawing a small amount of blood. "Let me go…..please let me go," Tony begged.

"It's alright, Tony. It's alright. Calm down," Gibbs soothed, his mouth close to Tony's ear, his tone deliberately low and soft. "Everything's ok."

The younger man thrashed again; his back arched and he continued to fight. Gibbs could already tell they were both going to be bruised when this was all over. Keeping one arm secured firmly around DiNozzo's chest and biceps, Gibbs' other hand moved up to cover Tony's brow and hold his head against his chest. "Oh god, please don't make me do it," Tony moaned. "Kill me instead, I don't care."

"Come on, Tony. Stop. You've gotta wake up now." The field agent's mumbled words were disturbing to hear. Slowly, over several minutes, the fighting stopped and the tension eased from his friend's body. DiNozzo slumped heavily into Gibbs, Tony's hands letting go of his mentor's wrists and falling limply to the bed.

The former marine continued to sit very still, holding Tony protectively and stroking his hair, quietly speaking into his ear, making sure the younger man was completely relaxed and there would be no repeat of the episode after he let go. "There's no one hurting you. You're safe now." He listened for Tony's breathing to slow into a more normal pattern. When Gibbs finally loosened his hold both men were covered in sweat; Tony shivered as the cold air of the room touched his slick skin.

Supporting the agent by the shoulders, Gibbs carefully eased out from behind him and gently lowered Tony's boneless body to the bed. He grabbed the blanket off the floor where it had landed during the struggle and tossed it back over the prone form. Tapping his friend on the cheek, he once again tried to get him to wake, but was met with no response beyond a low groan. Tony's breaths were heavy and sluggish; he appeared to be in a very deep sleep.

Gibbs searched his pocket for his phone; not finding it he scoped the floor until he discovered the small black piece of plastic where it had fallen under the edge of the nightstand. Impatiently he waited for an answer to the call, his blue eyes staying focused on the unmoving agent. "Jethro," Ducky burred, "What can I do for you tonight? Is something wrong?"

"I need you over at DiNozzo's now, Ducky. And yes, something is definitely wrong."

"Oh, dear," the ME replied. "I'm on my way."

Tony's eyes fluttered like he was trying to open them, before falling back closed. Gibbs sat down on the edge of the bed and placed a reassuring hand on the younger man's arm, hoping to keep him settled. "Don't waste any time getting here," he added. "I think DiNozzo might have overdosed."


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: I always love when Gibbs takes care of Tony, so we get a good dose in this chapter. There's a lot of introspection, and I mention Jeanne in this chapter and the next, but only because it was the only full-fledged relationship the show has given Tony. Ziva lovers, do not fret, she is included and has her own very special place in the story as well!**

**I continue to appreciate your reviews, story alerts, and support. There is nothing better than the "ping" of my phone alerting me that someone else is sharing their thoughts and encouragement! Thanks so much!**

When Ducky finally arrived at Tony's apartment, Gibbs was pacing the bedroom floor. The elderly Scot sat his bag on a chair in the corner and removed his jacket, folding it and hanging it on the back of the seat. He rolled up his sleeves.

"Alright, Jethro, what has our boy gotten himself into now?" The ME opened his bag and removed several instruments including a stethoscope and a penlight.

"When I got here he was having some kind of nightmare, Duck. He was screaming, yelling, I thought he was going to hurt himself."

Dr. Mallard reached out and turned Gibbs' chin toward the light, inspecting the dark purple bruise that flowered across the lead agent's jaw. "I think he wasn't the only one getting hurt. I take it Anthony was responsible for that."

Gibbs moved Ducky's hand away and shrugged. "I had to hold him for about ten minutes until he stopped fighting me; it got a little rough. After that he went into a really deep sleep and I haven't been able to wake him up." The agent's eyes darted over to where Tony lay, but it was enough for the physician to realize how nervous Gibbs' was about the situation. Staying true to his nature, the lead agent never verbally expressed his concern, simply folded his arms and waited for Ducky to do his work.

The doctor sat on the bed and patted Tony's cheek. "Anthony, it's Ducky, open your eyes."

DiNozzo inhaled and sighed, turning on his side, but did not respond. The doctor looked over his shoulder at Gibbs. "You said you were afraid he had overdosed on something. Did he take any medication that you know of?"

"Yeah, I think so. Come take a look." The ex-marine led Ducky into the kitchen where the ME inspected the empty pill containers. He tsked and shook his head.

"Oh, Anthony, if you were having this much trouble sleeping why didn't you come to me for help?"

Gibbs placed his hands on the counter. "I knew he wasn't feeling good; I even made him promise to go see you tomorrow if he wasn't any better. He said it was just the flu." Gibbs frowned and smacked a fist into the ceramic surface. "I should have known not to listen to his bullshit."

"Now, Jethro, let's not waste our time going down the path of blame. I'm guessing Tony was exhausted and decided to self-medicate. Unfortunately, he took far more than the recommended dose which explains the difficulty we are having getting him to wake."

"You don't think he was trying to hurt himself do you?" Gibbs ran a hand through his silver hair. The idea of Tony intentionally harming himself was not something he ever wanted to face, especially since he believed it was his job to watch out for the younger man in the absence of any real father figure in his life.

"No, if this was a suicide attempt he would have taken them all; I'm guessing his actions were more likely a misguided effort to deal with an inability to sleep."

"Do I need to call an ambulance? I was trying to avoid the hospital, since it wouldn't exactly look good for a federal agent to be brought in to have a handful of sleeping pills pumped out of his stomach." Gibbs shook his head. "That could bring up way too many questions and I don't think Tony's in any condition to answer them."

Ducky nodded in agreement. "You're probably right about that. Come along, let me give him a once over and find out exactly what we're dealing with, then we'll decide if he needs more help than I can give him here."

The lead agent followed the doctor back down the hallway. He hoped that Ducky was right, and Tony was only facing a severe case of insomnia, but he wasn't convinced. The younger man hadn't been himself for quite a while; if Gibbs was honest the change probably traced all the way back to his own little sojourn in Mexico. After Gibbs rejoined the team, bumping the younger man back to field agent without any preparation or explanation, Tony had started to change. At the time he figured his friend was happy to have him back; DiNozzo had never even mentioned the alteration in status to him. It didn't occur to Gibbs to ask Tony how the demotion made him feel. It wasn't like Gibbs ever asked anyone about their feelings, which could have been a contributing factor to his three failed marriages.

Tony had changed even further following the incident with Jeanne Benoit. After that relationship went down in flames, DiNozzo was no longer as carefree and happy as before. He continued to do all the things Tony was known for; dated lots of women, quoted movie references, bought designer clothes, made crude jokes. But something had changed in his friend, and even though Gibbs could see it, he never actively tried to find out what exactly was wrong. He assumed Tony would handle the breakup on his own and eventually get over it. Hell, after those three wives he knew better than anyone life went on.

_Except for Shannon._ Maybe he was being hypocritical, because if you looked to his first wife as the example, life didn't just go on. And it never would. Shannon was such a seminal part of his own existence that he never imagined Jeanne could be a similar person for Tony; but honestly the younger man had never come close to marrying anyone else. For someone like DiNozzo to let down his guard and consider sharing his life with another was enormous; to have that person ripped away so completely and abruptly had to have left a scar.

Gibbs had never asked about it. Even on the nights Tony had come over to eat dinner, watch a game, or hang out while he sanded in the basement, the relationship had never been brought up. The taciturn lead agent had been content to leave it alone unless Tony discussed it first. And Tony, being almost as much of a mute as himself when it came to matters of emotion, never mentioned it.

Then of course there was the entire debacle with Michael Rivkin and Ziva. After that was over and Tony had seen to it that Ziva was safely back in the United States, they all returned to business as usual with very little said. Gibbs had always wondered if there was more to Tony and Ziva than the professional relationship he saw every day in the office; but even after DiNozzo went so far as to travel to another country with his only intention to avenge her death, he couldn't tell if their feelings went anywhere beyond friendship. Of course, he never questioned Tony about that, either. Just swept it under the rug and ignored it.

The image of Tony with Kate's blood dripping from his face; his cheek pressed against a concrete wall with Paula Cassidy's dead body on the other side; his voice when he stood over Jenny and had to report that she was dead. All these memories flooded over him at once; Gibbs realized it was a wonder his senior field agent hadn't cracked up a long time ago.

He should have talked to Tony about all these situations; he should have paid more attention to what was happening right under his nose. Now, years later, the lead agent wondered if it had all built up inside Tony and they were going to have to deal with these issues whether they wanted to or not.

Vance had informed him the lead position was coming open in Rota and he was planning to offer it to DiNozzo. Gibbs had never encouraged Tony to pursue his own team, and he wondered if his standard line that Tony would tell them when he was ready to move on was wrong. Maybe that had been an excuse to keep DiNozzo around; a selfish way to avoid pushing the field agent out of the nest. Gibbs watched Ducky take the younger man's blood pressure and check his pulse, pondering if he had been subconsciously holding on too tight. Tony was the closest thing he had to a son, but even sons had to spread their wings and fly some time. Was it possible he didn't want Tony to grow up? That he ignored some of his senior field agent's childish behavior because without it, Tony wouldn't need him and he might go somewhere else?

Letting Tony leave might be the best thing for DiNozzo, even if it wasn't the best thing for Gibbs. Maybe it was time for him to give the younger man a needed shove and see how far he flew.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

_Tony was swimming in a lake of murky water. Above him he could see sparkling sunlight breaking through the surface like thousands of stars, beckoning him with the promise of warmth. Below him the water darkened, becoming inky black with no sign of what was lurking beneath the depths. Currents of frigid cold sliced their way upwards, promising to envelope him in icy fingers if he lingered there too long. _

_Treading water, he had to decide which way to go, up or down. It should have been an easy decision, but for some reason the darkness was seductive, and he knew there was a promise of a long and uninterrupted sleep in its blackness. Yet above the surface others were waiting for him, and he didn't want to hurt them by his decision to stay. So he kicked toward the light, hoping someone would realize he was going to need help to get back to shore this time._

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony batted at the hand holding his eyelid open and shining the offending light into his eye. "Stop," he said, his voice muffled.

"Have you decided to rejoin us, Anthony?"

His other eye was tugged open and the bright light shined in it as well. "Don't do that. Oh," he moved a hand to his temple and rubbed, keeping his eyes firmly shut. The streak of light reignited a fierce headache beyond any he had endured so far. "Wow. Wow. That really hurts."

"Is it your head, Anthony? Can you describe the pain?"

"Everywhere. It hurts everywhere." He pushed his head back into the pillow, trying to figure out if there was a way to escape the pulsing and throbbing that had taken up permanent residence in his skull.

His green eyes peered out of tiny slits. "Why are you in my bedroom? What's going on?" He forced his eyes the rest of the way open and sat up, realizing quickly the abrupt action was a mistake, as his brain erupted in agony and nausea overwhelmed him. "Oh, god," he said, grabbing his head in both hands and leaning over the bed to vomit. Ducky made a swift move to sidestep the soupy mixture.

Tony closed his eyes again, hoping the darkness would help ease the pain. "Ah," he moaned, when the pounding in his head never slowed. He could hear the blood rushing through his ears with each beat of his heart.

He was breathing heavily and his uncooperative eyelids didn't want to stay open. "Breathe in, Tony." A cold stethoscope was placed on his chest and moved around; eventually the process was repeated on his back.

"His breathing is slow, but not dangerously so. I think he'll be alright to wait out the effects of the medication here," Ducky determined.

Tony turned his head toward the voice, sending another knife-like sensation through his brain. He groaned, the sound hitching in his throat, and gradually wilted backward.

Someone caught his shoulders and helped him the rest of the way down. "Don't move, Tony, see if that helps."

"Boss?" _Oh crap, why is Gibbs here? _He tried to open his eyes again, blinking at the light that seemed to burn into his retinas. Maybe he'd been bitten by a vampire. Depending on the vampire lore he chose to believe, the light was either going to make him sparkle or roast him to an ember. Right now, option B appeared more likely.

"What are you doing here?" he croaked. _Why is Gibbs hanging out in my bedroom? This can't be good._

"It probably has something to do with all the sleeping pills you took, but don't worry about that now. Just tell Ducky what's wrong with you." The tone was brusque and to the point.

"Anthony," the Scot interjected. "Is the light hurting your eyes?"

Considering the two older men were standing over him while he was laying half-naked in bed and forcing himself not to throw up on them again, Tony decided to go with complete honesty. Almost.

"Yeah, makes it hurt worse." He placed a shaking hand over his eyes.

"Jethro, could you turn off the light in here and just leave the one on in the bathroom? That should be enough for me to see."

Gibbs did as asked, watching the tension in Tony's face relax a little when the lights went off.

"How is your vision? Are you seeing double?"

"There's white spots and halos around everything." Tony grimaced as another sharp jolt rocked his head. His hand clenched the sheet and he grunted.

"How long has this been going on, my boy?" Ducky asked.

"I….don't know," Tony whispered, trying to keep his reaction tight and controlled. "A…week, maybe?" The sound of his own voice was like nails on a chalkboard.

"No wonder you've gotten yourself into such a state. I think you have a migraine and perhaps a cluster headache. You're going to need some prescription medication to help ease the pain, but unfortunately there are no pharmacies open this late. We'll have to wait for that until morning. In the meantime, Jethro and I will do what we can to help out over the next few hours."

"I'll be ok, you don't have to stay," Tony murmured, when another stab of pain suddenly took away his ability to think, move, or speak for several minutes. When he was able to refocus, Gibbs was sitting on the edge of the bed rubbing his back. The lead agent was looking at him with a distressed expression that formed wrinkles around his frowning blue eyes. Ducky stood nearby, ready to step in if the situation worsened.

"Alright, you can stay if you want," Tony amended meekly. A rush of heat scorched his face, and the next thing he knew he was heaving again. Ducky held a small trash can and Gibbs kept the firm hand on his back.

"Ok, I'm ok," he mumbled, leaning back onto the bed. "Sorry. I can't stop it." He shook his head and regretted the movement, vowing for the near future to stay perfectly still.

For the next few hours he drifted in and out of sleep; the headache making it difficult to rest, but the sleeping pills still wanting to pull him under. Most of the time he stayed curled up on his side and tried not to move, but every so often the nausea became too much and he threw up again. Ducky and Gibbs took turns either holding Tony or holding the wastebasket.

At some point Dr. Mallard placed a cool wet cloth on Tony's forehead. DiNozzo sighed, embarrassed that he and Gibbs were spending their night watching over him like a couple of wet nurses. Tony once more considered telling them to leave, but he couldn't imagine having to go through this alone. "Sorry I took those pills and made all this worse, Ducky. I didn't mean to cause so much trouble." His voice was tired and thick; his thoughts were so jumbled he could barely hold on to them.

"Nonsense. I daresay this predicament has been building for several days and would have occurred regardless. It's water under the bridge, my boy." Ducky patted his hand reassuringly.

Tony managed a small smile at the ME's unwavering friendship and kindness. There hadn't been many supportive people in his life, and it was always somewhat surprising when his small circle of friends came through for him. He never took it for granted, actually he half expected it to one day disappear like the morning fog, leaving him on his own all over again.

"I think I'll make a spot of tea. Can I get you anything?"

"No, Ducky. I'm good for now," he answered.

"Don't hesitate to tell us if you want a drink or something to eat. I know how you don't like to cause anyone to be put out."

"Really, Ducky. I couldn't eat even if I wanted to. And you've made me drink so much water I'm surprised my eyeballs aren't floating." He was actually trying to avoid getting up to pee, so he didn't want any more water.

"Alright then, I'll be back to check on you in a minute."

After Dr. Mallard left, Tony clenched his teeth and curled his hands in the blanket, trying not to moan or scream. It was just a headache; after all, he should be able to man up and take it. He didn't want Gibbs to see him whining and crying like a girl over anything less than a gunshot wound or at the very least a broken bone.

It was amazing the amount of time he spent worrying about living up to the ex-marine's expectations of him. Out of all the people he could count on in his life, Gibbs would always be the most surprising. Nothing Tony did ever fazed the man, more often than not he simply cut through Tony's bullshit and ignored the song and dance DiNozzo put on for everyone else. Disappointing the silver-haired man was the worst thing he could imagine doing.

There was a rustling at Tony's side; suddenly the agent materialized beside him like a phantom out of the darkness. "You don't have to hold it all in, DiNozzo. It's ok to groan, yell, scream, whatever you need to do."

Tony gave him what he hoped was a grin. "Is that what a marine would do? You guys are tough as nails and all that shit. I'm just trying to be a good grunt."

Gibbs got a faraway look in his eye. "I took a bullet in the thigh once and screamed all night long until they knocked me out with a bottle of bourbon." He gave Tony his conspiratorial half-grin. "I've always liked bourbon." The blue eyes twinkled.

"This is a headache, boss, not a gunshot. Not the same thing."

"Pain is pain, Tony. I remember what it's like to hurt."

DiNozzo let the comment settle around him, not sure if Gibbs was speaking literally or metaphorically. The hurt Gibbs referred to could easily have been the physical agony Tony was currently enduring, or the emotional pain they had both felt over the years. Regardless, he appreciated the sentiment; just like he was appreciative his boss hadn't left. The lead agent had never mentioned going home; instead he drank endless cups of coffee made in the single-serving pot Ziva had gotten Tony for Christmas and planted himself in the overstuffed chair in the corner. The field agent smiled at the fact someone who could barely check his e-mail easily mastered any technology that involved the making of coffee.

Tony's smile faded when it occurred to him that sooner or later Gibbs was going to find out what was really going on; Tony wasn't sure if his mentor would ever forgive him for not telling the truth. He decided to give honesty one more try.

"Boss, I….I need to tell you something. About Jamacia, it wasn't what you thought." The pounding increased, he needed to talk fast. "I didn't….I didn't…" The spots danced, his eyes burned. He coughed, trying to maintain control. _I will not throw up. I will not throw up. _It didn't work; the dry heaves were unstoppable. Gibbs held his shoulders and waited them out, covering him with the blanket when he curled up and cradled his sore abdomen.

Having this conversation was impossible. It was like Somalia in reverse; there the truth serum wouldn't let him stop talking, here it was impossible for him to say anything.

When a weak morning sun eventually rose into the sky, Ducky grabbed his jacket and announced he would be back in an hour with something to end the migraine. Gibbs walked the doctor to the door, asking him to phone Ziva and Abby to tell them what was happening and not to worry. "You know, it will take a herd of elephants to keep Abigail away, Jethro. But I'll do my best to hold her off as long as possible." The ME smiled warmly. "Try not to worry; we'll get Anthony right as rain in no time."

The lead agent made his way back to Tony's bedroom, finding the younger man with his eyes closed and chewing his lips. He went to the bathroom and picked up a wet cloth and the wastebasket, quietly settling back on the edge of the bed. "Here," he said, wiping the sweat off Tony's face.

"Th…thanks." The young man cracked open his bloodshot eyes and swallowed hard, unable to hold down the bile that continued to push its way to the surface. Gibbs lifted the trash can just in time to catch what was left in the field agent's stomach.

"How'd you know I was getting ready to barf up the rest of my stomach lining?" Tony asked, his hollow eyes showing signs of exhaustion.

"Not like I haven't been watching you all night long. You chew on your lip right before you puke."

"Oh." He didn't realize Gibbs had been watching that closely.

"You feeling any better?"

Tony ran a hand through his hair. "No, not really." He winced. "You shouldn't have had to spend your whole night here."

"I didn't have anywhere else to be." Gibbs smoothed a corner of the blanket. "Vance told me about Rota."

DiNozzo raised up, groaned and covered his eyes. "Why would he do that? Why would he tell you when I haven't even decided what I'm going to do myself?"

The lead agent pushed him back down. "Don't get excited. I guess he wanted me to know I might have an empty spot on my team." Gibbs paused. "Maybe he figured you'd tell me yourself and it wasn't a big deal."

Tony looked stricken. "I haven't had any time to even think about it yet. I would've told you."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Even if you turned it down? You didn't say anything about Jenny's offer."

"That was different. You still weren't quite yourself. You could barely remember my name, let alone discuss job opportunities."

"We're discussing it now. How much consideration you gonna give it?" he asked.

"I….I don't know." His head was making its way to another crescendo; layering this on top of everything else wasn't helping. "I don't think….I can talk about it now." He tried to breathe his way through the cleaver splitting his brain in two. "Please….later, I'll talk to you about it later." Tony turned to the side and burrowed his head into the pillow, covering his face with his hand.

"Alright, don't worry about it for now," Gibbs said, feeling guilty for pushing the younger man when he was in such a weakened condition. But it would have to be talked about eventually; Tony couldn't run away from his future forever. The lead agent wouldn't let him. Gibbs had never considered what it would be like for Tony to leave; he had always thought the younger agent would stay until he officially retired. The realization that it might be time for Tony to go out on his own was unfamiliar territory. He smiled to himself; DiNozzo would probably think it would be like breaking up Batman and Robin.

Unsure of what else to do, but needing to take some kind of action, the former gunnery sergeant grabbed the wet towel. "Here," he put it back on DiNozzo's forehead. "Try to close your eyes. Ducky'll be back soon."

Tony barely nodded his acknowledgement.

Gibbs turned off the bathroom light, made sure the curtains were pulled tight, and did his best to plunge the room into total darkness. He settled into his place in the chair and waited. After a few minutes he heard Tony sigh and saw the tense muscles in his long body relax some. He couldn't tell if the younger man had finally fallen asleep, but for DiNozzo's sake Gibbs hoped so.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The sound of screaming shocked Gibbs' awake. Tony was sitting up in bed, green eyes wide and cloudy, staring at nothing. "No! I won't go back there! I won't do it!" he yelled again, turning his head as if listening to something. The younger man was shaking and breathing heavily; Gibbs recognized an expression in the emerald irises that he normally never saw there. _Fear._

Ducky rushed into the room, followed closely by Professor Childers. "What is the matter?"

Gibbs shook his head; it seemed like another nightmare except for the fact Tony's eyes were open. Tony moved to the edge of the bed and stood, stumbling slightly. "I have to get out of here. They want me to do it now. The team needs me to help them." He was mumbling incoherently. "Do you hear them? They won't stop talking to me." His eyes were still glassy, seeming to have no recognition of his surroundings.

"Hold on there, DiNozzo," the lead agent said, stepping toward him. Childers moved in front of the door, blocking Tony's exit. When the agent swayed again, the professor reached out a hand and placed it on his bicep to steady him.

"Keep your hands off me!" Tony roared. Gibbs saw the fist clench; he grabbed Tony's arm before he had an opportunity to swing. Having already been the recipient of one of those punches, he didn't want the professor to receive his own bruised jaw.

"DiNozzo! Tony!" Without thinking, Gibbs smacked his field agent lightly on the back of the head.

Tony's legs gave out; Gibbs caught him before he hit the floor. "Whoa, there, Sundance." The lead agent hoisted DiNozzo to his feet and hauled him the short distance back to the bed. Tony blinked and his brow furrowed. His eyes latched onto Childers and he shuddered. The doctor moved out of his line of sight toward the bathroom.

Ducky knelt by the bed. "Tony, do you know where you are?"

Blinking again, Tony nodded; his emerald green eyes more focused. The professor returned with a glass of water; he handed it to Dr. Mallard. "Drink this," the ME demanded. Tony looked at the glass, then at Childers, hesitating.

"Do what he says, Tony," Gibbs stated. Tony took the glass; it shook slightly as he drank.

"Good. Now take these." DiNozzo stared at the three men surrounding him, their faces uncompromising. He took the pills and swallowed without commenting, apparently aware that he was in no position to debate the request. Dr. Mallard smiled. "Those should help alleviate the headache and allow you to get some much needed rest."

"Will I dream?" Tony asked before he could stop himself.

"I really can't say, Anthony. But if you do, someone will be here with you." He looked at his watch to check the time. "If the migraine isn't gone in a few hours we can do an injection, but I'm hopeful that won't be necessary. Now, lay back down." The ME pulled the blanket over him. "Go to sleep and when you wake I guarantee you will feel much better."

Tony was skeptical, but too worn out to argue. He fought his heavy eyelids from closing. Gibbs went over to him. "What's the problem?"

The agent picked at a loose thread. "I'd rather not wake up screaming like I'm one of the latest victims of Freddie Krueger. It's getting kind of old." _And scary. _The voices were still whispering to him, but not so loudly that he couldn't ignore them. Their constant urgings were making him anxious, and he was fairly sure that if Gibbs and the others hadn't been in the apartment when he woke, he would have bolted straight out the door to do what they said.

The thread pulled farther out of the blanket. Tony kept his head lowered, unwilling to look at the older man. "I wish I knew what was wrong with me." The blanket started to rip. Gibbs put his own hand over Tony's to stop him, causing the green eyes to flash upward and meet his own.

"You know Ducky will figure this out. I just wish you would have told me this was going on."

Tony's shadowed eyes dropped back down. _There is so much more to tell. _"I know boss."

"Sleep, DiNozzo. I…."

"Got my six." He provided a small smile. "Thanks, boss." Gibbs watched as his agent's eyes closed again before he stood and quietly headed for the door of the room along with the other two men.

Professor Childers paused. "Dr. Mallard, since you've asked my opinion on Tony's condition, would you mind if I gave him a quick check-up? I'll make it fast so he can get back to sleep."

"Of course, Professor. My bag is on the chair over there." He pointed across the room. "I need to speak to Jethro, anyway. We'll be right outside when you're finished."

When he was alone in the room, Childers moved over to stand by the restless figure in the bed. He marveled at how easy it had been to slip into position among the tight-knit team. He had been worried that Gibbs would be suspicious of his involvement, but the lead agent's concern for DiNozzo's health was taking precedence over everything at the moment, leaving him the opportunity to slide around under the radar. Dr. Mallard's complete trust in him was an additional benefit. Childers felt like a cat in a cage with a canary. "Well, Tony, let's see if you can fulfill your assignment or if you make a mess of things like all the rest of them." He slipped a hypodermic needle out of his pocket and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Trust me," he said to the sleeping man. "You won't feel a thing."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"What's wrong with him, Ducky? This isn't just some damn headache. It's almost like he has Post Traumatic Stress Disorder or something." The ex-marine's blue eyes flashed.

"I agree, Gibbs, Anthony's symptoms are highly unusual. We' re lucky that Professor Childers called me this morning and offered to come over when I explained the situation, I'm hoping he'll have some insight into Tony's condition." They both looked up as the professor entered the kitchen.

"After examining Tony, do you have an opinion regarding what might be the issue?" Dr. Mallard inquired of the neurologist.

The specialist rubbed his chin. "As I'm sure you realize, Doctor, there are a number of potential sources; it could be a tumor or a blood vessel blockage among other possibilities. I couldn't glean much from just his vitals; I would suggest you arrange some diagnostic testing in order to determine the cause of the problem."

Ducky shook his head. "I am in no way qualified to diagnose a neurological disorder. I don't suppose you would be willing to step in and assist in treating our young friend? I know you're here on other business, but it would seem a shame to waste your abilities when we're obviously in need of them."

Childers smiled kindly. "I'll be glad to help out with Tony. Perhaps we can take a few minutes to develop a list of procedures that will give us the best understanding of his situation."

"Excellent. Let's have a seat and we'll get started." Ducky led the doctor toward Tony's small but neatly appointed kitchen.

There was a soft knock at the door. "Wonder who that could be," Gibbs muttered, knowing exactly who he would find on the other side. Palmer, McGee, Ziva, and Abby stood waiting in the hallway.

"Can we come in?" Ziva asked.

Abby didn't wait for a reply; instead she leaned forward and gave Gibbs a hug. "You are so wonderful for taking care of Tony like this." Releasing the older man she walked into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. Gibbs nodded for the others to follow.

"Guess that herd of elephants didn't work," he said and grinned.

"Sometimes you are so weird, boss." Abby's black pigtails bounced back and forth, the childish hairstyle a stark contrast to the silver-studded collar and spiked wristbands she wore. "Since we didn't have any new cases there wasn't anything for us to do at work until you and Dr. Childers came back, so we decided instead of waiting _there_ we should just wait _here_ instead. That way if you need anything we'll be right _here_ and you won't have to go all the way over _there_ to get us. So I hope you don't mind that we came… _here_." She frowned; obviously concerned her explanation didn't make sense. "It's ok, right?" Abby asked.

"It's ok, Abby, but you have to be quiet. Tony just fell asleep and he needs to rest for awhile," Gibbs responded.

"We won't make a peep, boss." She pretended to lock her lips and throw away the key. Through sealed lips she continued. "Quiet as mice, I swear. You won't even know we're around."

Gibbs chuckled, doubting if this group could ever go unnoticed. McGee, maybe, but the rest, never.

"McGee you still have a couple days of sick leave coming. What are you doing here?"

"Abby called and told me about Tony. He did save my life boss, so I wanted to find out what's going on. How is he, anyway?" The younger agent continued to hold his arm carefully around his injured side.

Gibbs sat down on the side of the sofa. "He's tired and has a severe migraine. Ducky and Professor Childers think he needs to get some kind of scans tomorrow. They aren't sure what's causing it."

"I knew there was something wrong with him," Ziva said, pacing. "He is in pain, yes?"

"Yeah, Ziva, he's hurting pretty bad. Ducky gave him some medicine that seems to have gotten it under control; we'll have to wait for him to wake up and see what he's like then."

The Israeli squinted her eyes at the bruise on Gibbs' chin. "Did he hit you?"

"Don't worry about it, Ziva," Gibbs closed down the topic.

Abby was inching toward the hallway to the bedroom. "Can I get a peek at him, Gibbs? Just to make sure he's alright?"

"Listen, Abs. If you'd seen him earlier you wouldn't take a chance on waking him up. Give him a couple of uninterrupted hours then you can mother him to death if you want."

She deflated a little, scooting in closer to the silver-haired man so she could speak to him quietly out of the hearing of the others. "It's Tony, Gibbs. He won't admit it, but you know, sometimes he gets scared, especially if he's alone. I don't think he should wake up by himself."

Gibbs rubbed Abby's shoulder. "In an hour or two I'll make sure someone goes in to stay with him. Promise."

Jimmy and Ziva were sitting on the couch; McGee had perched himself on the edge of a chair. The lead agent leaned against the doorframe and watched the agents talking softly. Gibbs could tell them all to go home, that sitting around waiting for Tony to wake up wasn't a productive use of their time. But he didn't. They needed to be here. DiNozzo was a key part of their lives, too.

One minute the field agent might be calling Palmer an "autopsy gremlin", but the next he was teaching the younger man secret handshakes and giving him dating advice.

He might give McGee the "elf lord" moniker and harass him about his ineptitude with women, before he covered for Tim when he was late for work.

He might proclaim Ziva a "scary ninja chick" in the morning, but have compiled a list of classic films for her to watch by evening.

And Abby was the "little sister" who had him wrapped around her pinkie.

DiNozzo had a way of getting under everyone's skin, and they loved him for it. They might never say it out loud, but if McGee was the brains and Ziva was the muscle, Tony was the heart of the team.

Gibbs left them to talk while he ventured into the kitchen to make another cup of coffee. He wasn't crazy about the single cup coffee maker Ziva had gotten Tony for Christmas; he preferred his coffee brewed by the pot. But it would do in a pinch.

While waiting for the water to heat, a small pile of papers caught his attention. A brochure for Jamaica, a map of the country, an article about Jamaican nightclubs that had a note saying "read this."

Ducky and Dr. Childers looked over from where they were sitting at the table. "I think we know how we want to proceed, Jethro. I'll call the hospital and make arrangements to take Tony in tomorrow on an outpatient basis, since we all know how he hates to be admitted. Hopefully, with Dr. Childers' input, we can get to the bottom of this fairly quickly."

Gibbs was holding a document he had picked up from the pile. He continued to stare at it, unsure of what to do. It didn't make sense. _An airline ticket. To Jamaica. Unused. _This meant Tony had never stepped foot in the other country. The field agent had been lying to him all week; maybe longer.

Ducky noticed the dark expression that stormed across Gibbs' features. "Is something wrong?"

The lead agent made no effort to hide the mixture of anger and confusion that he was feeling. "Yeah, Duck, something's wrong. You're going to need to take Tony to the hospital today since I'm going to strangle DiNozzo with my own two hands. That wrong enough for you?"

Clutching the airline ticket in his fist , Gibbs stomped toward Tony's bedroom, leaving Ducky to wonder what the young man had done to incur his very formidable wrath.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Oh, you guys are so kind and wonderful! I can't tell you how much I love to hear from you. I'm glad you enjoyed the hurt/comfort in the last chapter. And I want to say a special thanks to all the other authors who have taken the time to review my story. You are a talented and thoughtful group of people!**

**The plot moves along by the end of this chapter—some major developments are on the way. Again, forgive any plot holes or inconsistencies. I really try to think it all out, but sometimes it still gets away from me. As always, I look forward to hearing from you! Your feedback is definitely part of the fun! (And I'm wondering if you think Gibbs will be in time?) **

**TLH**

A hushed silence fell over the living room as Gibbs hurtled his way through with a hurricane force toward Tony's bedroom. Everyone present had known the lead agent long enough to recognize unbridled fury when they saw it. A few of them had been on the receiving end of that anger; none wanted to relive it. The question in all their minds was the same: _Why is Gibbs pissed and why is he heading straight for Tony?_

"Wait a minute, Jethro, before you do anything rash," Ducky called, following quickly on Gibbs' heels. The infuriated agent ignored him, slamming open the door to the bedroom with no concern for being quiet so as not to wake the sleeping occupant.

Tony jerked, the noise startling him.

"DiNozzo! Wake the hell up! Now!" Gibbs' low baritone echoed throughout the apartment.

The field agent's eyes blinked then flew open, his mind and body tuned to respond to the barked commands of his superior, even with the sedating effects of the migraine medication coursing in his veins.

"Boss? What?" Tony's hair stuck out in all directions and his pupils remained slightly unfocused; his appearance reminiscent of a little boy just woken up from a nap. He leveraged himself into a sitting position, leaning against the headboard. His eyes darted around the room as he tried to clear the sticky gum from his mind that still pulsed rhythmically.

Gibbs stalked to the side of the bed; even in his addled state DiNozzo picked up on the change in demeanor. His green eyes grew wide at the furious gaze bearing down on him; the nice version of Gibbs who had helped him endure the very long night was definitely gone. Over the many years Tony had worked for Gibbs he had been glared at many times; this particular version would have melted an iceberg.

"Explain this to me, Tony. Immediately." Tony should have been happy that his boss was no longer yelling, but the quietly menacing tone was far more intimidating. He stared at the piece of paper clutched in Gibbs' hand.

The rest of the group cautiously followed the lead agent into the bedroom, unsure of what was going on. They stood just inside the door, trying to determine exactly what had caused Gibbs to make a complete 180 on the senior field agent.

"What… what is that, boss?" Tony still hadn't caught up with the situation. He tried to make out what was written on the slip of paper, but his eyes were not being very cooperative. He rubbed them with the back of his hand in an effort to get them working. After several failed attempts, one of the words became clear. Jamaica. "Oh, shit," he mumbled.

"Oh shit is right. Why have you been lying to me, DiNozzo? You let me and Ducky sit here with you all night and you didn't have the respect to at least tell us the truth about what's been going on?" He was yelling again.

What little color that remained in Tony's face drained away, causing the black circles under his eyes to stand out even more against his pale skin. He was breathing heavily, his bare chest puffing up and down with each strained intake of air. He wore a look of pure panic.

"You don't understand," Tony whispered.

"Damn right I don't understand. So explain!"

"I couldn't…..I couldn't tell you." He closed his eyes and his voice caught on the words.

"Why not, Tony? Was it easier to lie to me? Where exactly did you go for those two weeks that you couldn't share with me?"

DiNozzo shook his head slightly, looked at the ceiling. His face was a mask of pain and anguish. Finally, he spoke, his words so soft they could barely be heard.

"I don't know where I was, boss. I can't remember. I can't…..remember anything about those two weeks." His eyes were begging for sympathy from his boss and friend. The pounding in his head had returned and he felt the familiar irritation in his throat as the urge to vomit built back up. Now that Gibbs was forcing the issue it was somewhat easier to speak, but he still felt like a nest of baby snakes was bunched up in his intestines. He clutched at the pain in his stomach.

Gibbs ran a hand through his silver hair and turned away, the rage in his blue eyes continuing to simmer. Without warning, he knocked the chair into the wall. Tony jumped and Abby squealed.

"If you're going to keep lying to me Tony, come up with a better one than that!"

Tony's mouth opened then shut. He looked over at the team helplessly. "It's true, boss." He swallowed and massaged his head with his long fingers. "I tried to tell you, I really did. But every time I started to say something I got really sick and couldn't get the words out. I know it sounds stupid. I'm sorry. I didn't want to keep secrets again!" His voice raised and cracked harshly. He ground the base of his hand into his skull. "I don't know why I can't remember!" Abruptly he hit himself on the forehead, sending a self-inflicted spike of agony through his brain. His skin turned a sickly shade of green as he fought to control his physical reactions to Gibbs forcing the discussion.

Ducky stepped forward. "Anthony, you must calm down. If you start throwing up again we're going to have to take you to the hospital."

"I can't calm down, Ducky. Can't you see that? Everything is falling apart!" He was noticeably shaking, unable to control the torrent of emotions—shame, anger, fear, frustration—that cascaded over him like a thundering waterfall. Nausea rolled in his gut. His hands unconsciously grasped the blanket.

"Just stop lying, Tony, and tell me what's really going on here!" Gibbs demanded again.

"I told you, I don't know!" DiNozzo yelled back, sweat popping out on his forehead, his breathing ragged and gasping. "If I knew, I'd tell you!" It occurred to him that not only was he getting reamed by Gibbs, but he was having a minor meltdown in front of the rest of the team. "I…..I …" he stopped mid-sentence, the water he drank earlier rushing uncontrollably back up his throat; he was barely able to lean over the bed in time for the liquid to splash in the floor and not all over him. His eyes were watering when he looked back up at his boss imploringly and shook his head. There was no possible way he was going to be able to continue this conversation, his body just wouldn't allow it.

"Enough!" Abby cried, pressing through the knot of people to stand between the lead agent and the senior field agent. She stared straight at Gibbs. "Can't you see what you're doing to him? I'm sure Tony has a good reason for his decision, we just need to give him a chance to settle down and tell us." The ebony-haired Goth sat on the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms protectively around her friend's quaking shoulders. "Now get out, all of you, and let him rest until he feels like he can talk some more." When no one moved, she added, "Go! And that includes you, Gibbs."

The room quickly cleared, leaving only Abby, Tony, and Gibbs. The lead agent clenched his hands but made no effort to leave. Tony met his furious blue eyes with his own despondent green. "I know I screwed up, boss. I'm sorry."

Gibbs didn't reply. Abby provided him with her own glare. "Please, Gibbs," she said firmly.

The silver-haired man turned and quietly left the room.

Tony's entire body deflated against his long-time friend. "Oh my god, Abby, what have I done?"

She hugged him tight. "It'll be fine. Gibbs erupts like a volcano then he calms back down. He'll listen to you. Right now you just need to go back to sleep."

The pills Ducky had given him were still having their effect, making his eyelids unbelievably heavy. "I didn't mean to cause this mess, Abs. I would never lie to Gibbs on purpose. I've learned my lesson about that."

"Sshh. How about if I sing to you?"

Tony's eyes popped back open. "I don't think something from "Suicide Collision's" greatest hits is going to help me relax after that."

Abby smiled. "Do you honestly think that's the extent of my musical repertoire? Come on." She nestled his head in her lap and started humming, lightly running her fingers along his arm. Soon she added words to the humming.

"_Sleep my child and peace attend thee, All through the night. Guardian angels God will send thee, All through the night. Soft the drowsy hours are creeping, Hill and dale in slumber sleeping, I my loved ones' watch am keeping, All through the night."_

Abby continued, alternately humming and singing softly. Tony wasn't surprised that Abby, behind all the tattoos and silver-studded hardware, knew such a beautiful and comforting melody. It flowed around him like a peaceful rain. There would never be anyone else in his life quite like Abby. "Thanks, Abby," he murmured.

The song, combined with the drugs, tugged Tony toward sleep. While his mind drifted he couldn't stop thinking about the look on Gibbs' face when the former gunnery sergeant was confronting him. It was a look the older man reserved for murderers and other lowlifes who found themselves unlucky enough to sit across from him in interrogation. Tony wasn't happy to be a part of their group and he wondered if Gibbs would ever give him a chance to try and explain. And even when he did, would Gibbs be willing to listen to the crazy story he had to tell?

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs paced the floor, struggling to control the anger bubbling inside him. What had Tony been thinking? What was he hiding? _How could I have not have known this was going on?_

The team was watching him silently; afraid to comment on what just happened. He stopped pacing and faced them. It was time to find some answers, whether Tony provided those answers or not. "Someone tell me what the hell is going on here."

McGee cleared his throat. "So what exactly did you find, boss?"

"Airline tickets, McGee. Tony's airline tickets to Jamaica. He never went and he's been lying about it the whole time." The lead agent tossed the tickets on the coffee table.

Ziva stood and picked them up, smoothed them out. "It is not possible," she said.

"What, Ziva? You gonna defend him? Your proof is right there." Gibbs was still seething from the revelation.

"It is not what you think, Gibbs. Professor Childers, have you reviewed the reports Tony and I compiled for you?"

"Yes, Agent David, I have. Do you think there is some connection between those men and Agent DiNozzo?" He paused, his eyes narrowing as his mind acknowledged the pieces she seemed to have already found. _Very clever girl,_ he thought. "You are referring to the missing time, aren't you?"

The Israeli nodded. "Gibbs, all the men we have been investigating were away on extended trips prior to the murders. One went camping, another took a class abroad, the other two were supposed to be visiting family and friends. All of the trips were between two and three weeks in duration. Once they returned, they began exhibiting symptoms of paranoia and irritability. Most complained of headaches. These cannot just be similarities."

Palmer gaped at her. "Are you suggesting Tony was kidnapped and brainwashed?"

"Dr. Childers, although difficult to believe, it is a possibility, yes?" Ziva asked.

The professor rubbed his chin. "I would never have dreamed this would impact one of your own, but I suppose in light of the symptoms Tony is exhibiting, it is a likelihood."

Gibbs couldn't accept what they were saying. He had never believed in this mind control crap anyway. Now they thought someone had done it to DiNozzo? But he had to admit everything going on with Tony matched exactly with what Ziva had listed.

Right now it was their only explanation.

"I want to know where Tony really was for those two weeks. Ziva, you and McGee go back to the office and trace him electronically. Comb through the other men again and see if anything relating to Tony turns up. I don't care how long it takes, but I want every move DiNozzo's made since the start of his supposed vacation. I'll stay and search for anything else here. "

"On it, boss." The two agents stood to go.

"Ducky, could you and Professor Childers review the autopsy reports of the other men and see if anything new stands out? And I need a report on exactly what you think is going on with DiNozzo; how this could have happened and what we should expect from him if this turns out to be true."

"Of course," Ducky replied. The men also moved toward the door. Dr. Mallard hesitated. "I know you're angry with Tony, Jethro. But they young man doesn't need any more upset right now. He's fairly close to the edge as it is."

"What was he thinking, Ducky? Why would he keep this from me?"

"It sounds as if he was doing his best to handle a very difficult mental and physical situation on his own. I'm frankly amazed he's been able to make it through work every day. Let's try to be understanding of the boy's predicament."

Gibbs sighed, some of the anger receding from his pale blue eyes. "I'll try, Duck."

The ME's eyes crinkled sympathetically. "Tony should sleep for a few more hours, but when he wakes there must be someone here with him." His gaze fell on Palmer who was studying a shelf of neatly lined DVD's. "But I think I have the solution for that. Mr. Palmer, I have the perfect assignment for you."

"Yes, Dr. Mallard?"

"Stay here with Gibbs. Help him…but stay out of the way. When he leaves you can keep an eye on Tony until we return."

Jimmy smiled. "I'll be glad to help out, Dr. Mallard." He turned and grinned at the lead agent. "I'm all yours, Agent Gibbs."

The blue-eyed man raised his eyebrows skeptically.

A click from the hallway signaled Abby had left Tony's bedroom. Soft footfalls tapped down the hall. "He finally fell asleep," she announced. "Where'd everybody go?"

"Back to the office to try and figure out where DiNozzo's been the last few weeks. You can ride back with me."

Abby twisted a ponytail around her finger. She didn't like it when Gibbs was mad at her, or when she was mad at him. It made everything in the world slightly off-kilter.

"Abs," he said softly and tilted her face up to look at him. He hated to see the wet trace of tears around her eyes.

"I'm sorry, bossman, but I couldn't stand to see Tony so upset. It isn't the way he's supposed to be, all sad and pitiful like a hurt puppy."

Gibbs smiled; he had to agree that Tony did rather seem like a lost pup right now. "He's lucky to have you standing up for him. I suspect you'd fight a seven foot grizzly bear if it was out to attack him."

She grinned. "Or a six foot silver-haired fox." Abby hugged him. "I don't like it when you guys fight. When you're kidding around, it's one thing, but for real, no way. It's like Shaggy fighting with Scooby; it just doesn't happen."

"I lost my temper, Abby. I didn't want to believe Tony would hide something like this from me." He rested his chin on top of her head. "How's he doing?"

"He's scared; he won't come out and admit it, because that's just not a DiNozzo thing to do. But he's afraid something's really wrong with him and you won't forgive him. He's wrong, isn't he? You will forgive him, won't you?"

"It's Tony, of course I'll forgive him. I shouldn't have yelled at him like that anyway." Guilt and regret colored his voice. Gibbs might get angry and upset with Tony sometimes, but it would take a lot more than this to make him stop caring about the younger man. "That doesn't mean I still don't want to kick his ass for not talking to me."

"I knew you'd take care of him. You always do." Abby's expression was wistful and knowing. "So what are you up to now? And why's Palmer still here?"

"We need to search Tony's apartment for anything else that might tell us what's been going on with him. You two can help me."

"On your six, boss," Abby replied, a playful smile on her lips. "I always wanted to say that."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs had given Abby the kitchen and dining areas to search. Standing in Tony's black and white kitchen she admired the gleaming stainless steel appliances. She knew from previous experience that Tony had several junk and bill drawers in the kitchen, which is where she would concentrate her investigation.

The room always made her feel happy. It reminded her of a classic 1950's diner, or something off of "Happy Days." One spring weekend Tony had invited her to help him search for vintage accessories to give the kitchen just the right tone. They had spent two days combing through yard sales, or tag sales as Tony told her they were called up north, to find the perfect items. The two of them strolled through both flea markets and antique shops, identifying hidden treasures that someone else had discarded. While discussing the merits of "trash to treasure" Tony had laughed slightly before saying, "It kind of reminds me of myself."

"What do you mean?" Abby asked, confused by the comment.

"You know, my Dad trashed me, threw me away because he didn't want me anymore. But Gibbs, he picked me up, took me home and dusted me off. When all anybody else saw was an annoying screw-up, he saw something more." He laughed again. "That was a dumb thing to say."

Abby pecked him on the cheek. "I thought it was beautiful. And Gibbs is right, as usual, you really are a treasure."

They had spent the rest of the day walking arm-in-arm, Tony oblivious to anyone staring at her strange clothes, hair, and makeup. Lunch was eaten in an eclectic bistro Tony knew about, and the evening was spent at a cool downtown jazz club. Running her finger along the toaster and the coffee pot, Abby recalled where each item had been bought.

She remembered seeing Tony for the first time, his model good looks and overly bright smile lighting up her lab. Both had annoyed her. The Goth immediately assumed he was "that guy", the kind who led a charmed life and was completely conceited and arrogant. It took her several weeks and a lot of effort on Tony's part to realize that assumption had been all wrong. Sure, he was conceited and arrogant, but those traits were tempered by his sweetness, goofiness, and never-failing loyalty. In his own way, he was just as quirky as she was; he just did a better job at covering it up.

Abby loved him. She'd never been attracted to him; instead he was as close to her as a friend could be. She would protect him like her own flesh and blood. The forensic scientist opened the nearest drawer and started carefully sifting through the contents. If Tony couldn't figure out what had happened to him, she would do it for him.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Jimmy was searching the living room. He stood in front of the floor to ceiling wood cabinet and read the titles of a few of the hundreds of DVD's lining the shelves. It was the most movies he had seen in one place outside of Blockbuster. They were neatly organized, arranged by genre, and alphabetized.

He had been in Tony's apartment a lot over the last few years; they got together once or twice a month to hang out, eat pizza, and watch old movies. There last "film festival" was focused on sci-fi/monster classics, including "Creature from the Black Lagoon" and "Plan Nine From Outer Space." Palmer had laughed until his sides hurt. Before that, it had been a John Wayne retrospective. Tony had told him "The Duke" was required viewing at NCIS. When Palmer asked why, DiNozzo replied, "Isn't it obvious? Gibbs? John Wayne? They're cut from the same cloth, my friend. If you want to know how to handle the Boss, just spend a few evenings watching the Duke." And with that he had forced Jimmy to watch "Big Jake", "The Searchers", and "Rio Bravo."

Tony was like his older brother; the senior field agent treated him as a trusted friend and equal. Sometimes they would play basketball together, Tony using his years of experience to teach Palmer about the game. The ME's assistant had never played beyond middle school, but that didn't bother Tony. He had been patient with his instruction and the young man had actually become pretty decent. Palmer thought the rest of the team often forgot that Tony had nearly been a professional athlete. Maybe he had a case of hero worship for Tony, but Jimmy didn't care. He would do anything he could to help Tony deal with whatever was going on. There was no doubt in his mind DiNozzo would do the same for him.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs lifted a box off the shelf in the top of the bedroom closet, this time trying to be quiet and not wake the sleeping man. Sitting the box on the floor, he carefully lifted off the lid. The room was dark, since any light was having such a negative effect on Tony's headache, so Gibbs was using his flashlight to sift through the contents of the room. The box he was currently looking in contained mostly pictures; Gibbs sighed at the sight of them. The pictures were of Tony and Jeanne. The lead agent had never been around Tony while he was with the young woman; based on the pictures DiNozzo had been happy with her. In all the photographs he was smiling, laughing, joyful. Several letters written in feminine handwriting were also in the box; Gibbs chose not to read them but allow Tony his privacy. The fact Tony had kept them said enough on its own.

Gibbs pulled down and opened another box. He sat back on his haunches staring at the mementos he found inside. He picked up the first small piece of paper; a ticket to a football game between the Redskins and the Cowboys. Gibbs didn't need to look at the date stamped on the ticket since he had been there; Tony had taken the lead agent to the game as a birthday present. Tony had impressed him with his football knowledge; the younger man even admitted that at one time he'd considered becoming a coach. "You know, the PE degree and all." He'd smiled sheepishly. They had discussed old football injuries, Tony eventually telling him about his career-ending broken leg. Gibbs picked up on the longing look in Tony's green eyes; it was obvious the dream hadn't died easily. Tony just shrugged. "I had to let it go," he said. "I found another path and went on with my life. It's kind of what I do."

"So why become a cop?" Gibbs tossed a piece of popcorn in his mouth.

Tony snorted in disappointment. "You have to ask? Being a cop was the closest I could get to being Magnum. He was the coolest guy I'd ever seen….until I met you, of course." Gibbs smacked him lightly on the back of the head, leaving Tony grinning from ear to ear. Shortly after, Tony had excused himself to get another beer. Gibbs knew it was to actually give him time to put his real feelings aside and reinforce his defenses; when the other man returned the moment was over and he was safely back to his normal goofy self.

Other ticket stubs were tossed in the box: Wizards basketball, DC United soccer, Georgetown basketball, minor-league baseball, various movies. There were newspaper articles about Gibbs and the Major Crimes Response Team, announcements about the lead agent receiving various awards and accolades. Also included were a few pictures of the two of them, all photos taken by Abby at one time or another.

It didn't surprise Gibbs that Tony was a sentimental sap at heart. It was one of the contradictions that made him DiNozzo. The fact the items in the second box were all related to him, well that hit the ex-marine in his soft spot. He felt like a voyeur looking through the things Tony would never tell anyone he had.

A low rumble from across the room caught his attention.

The lead agent walked over to the snoring young man in the bed. Tony's arm was thrown over his eyes and his mouth was hanging open slightly. Gibbs knew very well that a word from him could either make or break Tony. Somehow, DiNozzo had wrapped his self-worth up in Gibbs' opinion of him. There were days when Gibbs didn't want the responsibility, and wasn't sure he was worthy of it. Today was one of those days. He had screwed up by yelling at Tony, especially when the field agent was in such an obviously tenuous condition. Sometimes being a bastard with a short temper worked for him, other times not so much.

In a sotto voice, he leaned down and whispered, "Sorry, DiNozzo. I shouldn't have gone off on you like that. I'm going to take care of this for you, whatever the hell_ this_ is. That's a promise." Gibbs knew Tony couldn't hear him; the promise was more for his own benefit than anything else. He pulled the blanket back over his sleeping friend, tucking it around him in a way he would never do if Tony had been awake. He pushed a few stray, sticky hairs back off Tony's face before straightening up and going back to his search.

Tony slept on, unaware of the promise from Gibbs, or any of the rest of the team, who were determined to find out the truth about where he had been and what had been done to him.

And the team, for all their searching, was unaware of the dreams fueled by Childers' injection, that were still creeping into Tony's subconscious, pushing him ever closer to an action he would have never chosen on his own.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs walked to the living room where Abby and Palmer waited. "I didn't find anything. How about you two?"

"Nothing besides some overdue bills and a list of phone numbers that say _Do Not Answer. _I suspect they're old girlfriends he doesn't want to talk to," Abby supplied with a slight grin.

Palmer was admiring Tony's sleek black stereo system. He glanced over his shoulder. "I didn't find anything either, unless you're interested in a stack of classic GSM's. He always keeps the best ones." The young man smiled appreciatively before accidentally hitting a button with his finger; the sounds of a Dean Martin song filled the room.

"Turn that off!" Gibbs demanded.

"Sorry! It….It was an accident." Jimmy fumbled with buttons, making the stereo blare louder. "I'll find it," he mumbled, daring a look at the lead agent, who was glaring at him intently. He searched more frantically for something to stop the music. "Where is that button?" Nothing he pushed seemed to help.

Abby leaned in and found the power button, finally silencing Dino in mid-song. "Thank you, Abby," Palmer whispered, sighing dramatically. Nervously he glanced at the lead agent again. "He hates me," Jimmy added.

Gibbs rolled his eyes.

"Palmer, you're on DiNozzo duty. Abby and I are heading back to help with the investigation." The lead agent walked close to the young man, staring closely into his eyes. "Do not let him out of your sight. Make sure he stays in that bed until I get back; I don't care if you have to tie him to it. If he gives you any trouble, call me. Is that clear?"

"C…crystal, boss…uh, Agent Gibbs," Palmer stuttered.

"Good," Gibbs said, and patted the autopsy assistant on the nape of the neck. Jimmy rubbed the area appreciatively.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

_"It's time, Tony. You have to do this now." The brown eyes stared down at him._

_"I don't think I can," he said softly. "He didn't do anything wrong."_

_"If you don't do as I say they're all going to die." He waved his hand around the room; autopsy tables surrounded Tony, each covered with a member of the team. Their faces were pale and waxy; their eyes stared ahead at nothing. _

_"I know you'll do it, Tony. Because they're your family, and you love them. You'll do whatever it takes to protect them. So like I said, it's time."_

_DiNozzo hung his head, unable to fight it anymore. They were his Achilles heel, and the doctor had plied his leverage point perfectly. He would do what he had to in order to save his team, his family._

_Even if he had to sacrifice himself to do it._

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony opened his eyes and looked around; the room was dark and quiet. He sat up and took a quick inventory; his headache was down to a manageable level and the nausea was pretty much gone. Standing, he felt surprisingly steady on his feet. If he was lucky, everyone had left and he could sneak away without any interruptions.

Glancing into the living room he found that would not be the case. Palmer was stretched out on the sofa flipping through a magazine; a GSM, Tony noted. At least the boy had taste.

"Tony! What are you doing out of bed?"

DiNozzo continued on his way to the kitchen. "I'm getting coffee, Palmer. I do live here, you know."

Tony found an OSU coffee mug, filled it with water, and poured it into the coffee maker. He popped in a tub of Dark Roast and leaned heavily against the counter to wait.

"What are you still doing here, Jimmy? Watching me sleep? That's very romantic, you know."

"I'm supposed to hang out and make sure you stay in bed until Gibbs and Ducky get back. Gibbs was adamant that I not let you run around or go anywhere."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Think you can do that, Jimmy? If I really want to leave?" There was a hint of challenge in his voice; Tony knew that even though they were friends, he could still intimidate the slightly built younger man.

Palmer shifted nervously. "I was hoping we were good enough friends you wouldn't want to do anything that would give Gibbs a reason to kill me."

DiNozzo added some hazelnut creamer to his coffee and laughed. "Blackmail. I like it."

"So you're going to cooperate? You're not going to fight me?"

"Nah, Jimmy. I don't feel much like fighting right now." It was a very truthful statement. Even though he felt a lot better, he was still fairly shaky and weak. It was definitely not one of his best days.

Palmer relaxed in relief; he turned around to find his own mug and make another cup of coffee.

_The back of Jimmy's head was blown open, revealing a red-congealed mess reminiscent of Kate so many years ago. The younger man continued talking, but Tony had no idea what he was saying, his focus riveted on the devastating damage to Palmer's skull._

Tony closed his eyes and held them shut for several seconds; when he looked again his friend was back to normal.

"Are you ok?" Palmer asked with concern.

"Yeah, I'm just going to go lie down again." Tony brushed past Palmer and made his way back to the bedroom. He had to get Jimmy to leave or somehow get away from him. Somewhere in DiNozzo's mind a clock started ticking; he could literally hear the clicks of each second as they passed. He had to do this today, otherwise they, whoever _they_ were, would start eliminating everybody he cared about. The way to prevent it from happening clawed at him like an obsession. A tiny segment of his mind knew the idea to complete this deplorable act wasn't actually his, but it didn't matter anymore. It was like an urge he couldn't escape, a compulsion he had to follow.

It was the only way he could save them from the cold confines of Ducky's morgue.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, Tony smiled at Jimmy who had followed him into the bedroom.

"You think you could do something for me?" he asked innocently.

"Of course, Tony, whatever you want."

The complete look of trust in Jimmy's eyes made him feel like a total piece of shit for what he was about to do.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs entered the quiet bullpen wondering where the normal buzz of activity had gone. It finally registered that today was Saturday; his team and a few others were the only ones in the building. Ziva glanced up at his approach; he handed her a cup of coffee which she accepted with a curt nod. McGee walked over and Gibbs handed him a cup as well.

"Thanks, boss," the younger man said.

"How's the side?" Gibbs asked.

"Not too bad. I'm ok to work a computer."

The lead agent sipped from his own cup. "Come up with anything?"

"For the two weeks Tony was missing there was no sign of him anywhere. He didn't use credit cards or make any bank withdrawals. It was like he completely disappeared," McGee explained.

"However, we did find something from the security cameras in Tony's apartment building," Ziva added as she clicked the screen.

An image appeared of the hallway in DiNozzo's building. The time stamp in the corner matched the date Tony was to have left on vacation. After a few seconds the screen flashed then turned to snow. Standing, Ziva explained, "It stays this way for about fifteen minutes before resuming normal function. There is the same anomaly on the date Tony was to have returned from his trip."

Gibbs stared at the screen. There was only one reason to tamper with the video; more than likely that was when Tony had been taken and brought back. The lead agent's stomach did a sickening flip._ Maybe this is true._

"Did anyone in the building see anything?"

McGee fidgeted. "We haven't had time to get back over their yet. We wanted to check in with you first."

"There is something else," Ziva interjected. She paused when Ducky and Professor Childers exited the elevator and joined the group. Gibbs tilted his head for her to continue.

"The murders committed by the other men all occurred within one week of their return from the trip they had taken." She pursed her lips and shook out her long hair in an uncharacteristic sign of nervousness. "Their suicide attempts took place immediately after. Tony has been back for six days. If Tony continues to follow the same pattern as these men, he has only one more day before….." she forced herself to look Gibbs directly in his steel blue eyes. "Before he murders someone and kills himself."

McGee shook his head. "Tony would never do that. I don't believe it," he said emphatically. "He might be an irritating jerk sometimes, but he's not a murderer."

Childers cleared his throat. "I'm sorry Agent McGee, but it is very possible. If Tony has been tortured and programmed by these people he will no longer be in control of his behavior. He will be playing a part in whatever story they have created for him; the impulse to complete his role will be nearly unstoppable." _I've made sure of that, _he added silently.

"You think he was tortured?" Ziva asked.

"The process is quite…difficult. The subject is first isolated; given no contact with the outside world. He becomes totally dependent on his captors for every basic need. Food, water, and sleep are strictly controlled. Drugs are usually introduced, making the subject more malleable. At some point physical abuse might be necessary to fully break the person down. After the personality starts to shift, ideas can be implanted and suggested. Hypnosis is often used. When the subject returns to his regular life, he would have no clear memory of what was done. Once the embedded act is completed, a fail-safe can be activated, which in these cases appears to be suicide."

"Is there anything that can be done to stop this chain of events?" Ducky asked softly.

The professor put a hand on the ME's shoulder. "It could take some time, but with various therapies he can be set right again. Currently, the only consideration is preventing him from doing anything harmful to himself or someone else." _Which should be happening now._

"You're all talking like this is a done deal. I'm not convinced that Tony is actually going to do anything yet," Gibbs countered. "McGee, call Palmer and get a SitRep."

McGee dialed and waited. "No answer, boss."

Ziva already had her phone out. "Tony is not answering either."

"If Palmer has let him get away, Ducky, you're going to be telling _him_ stories on your autopsy table."

_NCISNCISNCIS _

Tony drove slowly toward his destination, trying to prolong the inevitable. This was the last thing he wanted to do. The very last thing.

He had no choice.

Palmer. Ducky. McGee. Abby. Ziva. Gibbs. They were all depending on him. It might be the last thing he ever did, but if it prevented them from being harmed, it would be worth it.

He parked the car outside of the neatly appointed home and for a second doubted he could go through with it. But it was like a part of him was on auto-pilot; his hand reached out and checked his Sig, testing the weight of it in his hand.

Despite the several hours of sleep he had gotten from Ducky's pills, he was still exhausted. The migraine was gone, but the familiar pounding he had been subjected to over the last week had returned as a dull ache. He rubbed the incision behind his ear and considered what exactly had been placed there. _It doesn't matter, Tony_. Someone whispered in his mind. _Do your job. Save your friends. _

It would have been nice to talk to Gibbs again before this went down. The older man had been pissed at him several times before, but this morning's disagreement would probably rank in their top five arguments. Unfortunately, there was no way to explain what he was about to do to the lead agent; Tony doubted Gibbs would have believed him anyway. He didn't totally believe it himself.

Tony laid his head on the steering wheel and abruptly decided to leave. "Fuck it," he said out loud. "This is nuts. I'm just going home, climbing back in bed, and letting the team fuss over me until someone decides what the hell is wrong."

Before he turned the key in the ignition, the images, the pain, the nausea, the voices, _those damn incessant voices,_ were back in full force. _You have to do this, Tony. You have to do this, you have to do this, you have to do this… _His mind swirled and his breath caught in his throat. There was no going back.

In a few minutes his life and the life of another would be over. The only saving grace was that the team would be out of danger.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Palmer! Tony! Where the hell are you?" Gibbs demanded as he barreled through the apartment door.

"In here!" The muffled response came from within Tony's bedroom. Gibbs pulled up short when he entered the room and heard Palmer calling out from the master bath. There was a small crack in the door; Palmer's lips were pressed against it. "I'm stuck in here!"

"_DiNozzo_," Gibbs growled. The bathroom doorknob was tied to the walk-in closet door with several taught lengths of women's pantyhose. No matter how hard Jimmy tugged, the nylons wouldn't let the door open enough for him to exit. Gibbs stared down at the sturdy and practical knot he had taught Tony how to tie.

McGee and Ziva entered the room just as the lead agent removed his knife and sliced the pantyhose apart.

Palmer came rushing out. "Oh, thank god you're here. I was starting to get claustrophobic. I don't think I could have taken it much longer."

Ducky and Professor Childers walked in. "How long were you in there?" Ducky asked.

"About thirty minutes," Palmer said, heaving slightly. "Am I hyperventilating?"

"No, you're not," Gibbs answered. "Where is DiNozzo? You were supposed to be watching him."

Palmer stammered. "He asked me to go in the bathroom and find some medicine for a stomachache, you know those little pink pills? I don't think they help much, but if Tony wanted them…."

"Palmer! Focus!" Gibbs yelled, losing patience.

"Right. While I was in there he shut the door and rigged it so I couldn't get it open."

McGee picked up the end of the pantyhose. "Where would he get these?" the junior agent asked.

Ziva raised an eyebrow at him.

"You're right; I probably don't want to know."

"Did he say anything before he left?" Gibbs inquired.

Jimmy's eyes softened. "He said to tell you he was really, really sorry. And…." He paused. "That you couldn't have stopped him, so don't blame yourself."

Gibbs walked in a circle. "Where would he go? The other men shot their commanding officers. Who would they send him after?"

"You?" Ziva provided.

The lead agent snorted. "He would have waited here for me to come back." _No amount of brainwashing could get Tony to kill me, _he added silently. Then it hit him; the commanding officer it would be easy to convince him to shoot.

"Vance."

Within seconds the lead agent was on his phone and heading for the door, trying to prevent an act that could end the life of both the Director and DiNozzo.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: This chapter is long enough without me saying too much! Thank you from the bottom of my toes for all your comments and reviews. We're in the thick of it now, so let me know what you think about these developments. (Oh, and forgive me for not letting Gibbs figure out Childers too quickly; trust me, it's worth the wait! And I hope I haven't made too many mistakes on the legal stuff. Did my best on that. Chaver is Hebrew for friend.)**

Jackie Vance stood at the counter cutting vegetables for dinner. She smiled to herself while listening to her daughter's argument for attending the sleepover despite being grounded for not cleaning her room.

"But Dad, all of my friends will be there! If you don't let me go, I'll be an outcast! Please, try to understand!" Kayla pleaded.

Leon Vance would not be swayed. "No. You know the rules. If you can't finish your chores, you're not going anywhere. Maybe next time you'll think before you decide to ignore your mother when she asks you to do something."

"Yeah, Kayla. Try not to spend so much time texting Darin next time," Jarod teased from his spot sitting on a kitchen stool.

"Shut up, Jarod," Kayla demanded.

"I think you both need to show some respect," Vance added, fishing his ringing phone out of his pocket. He frowned at Gibbs' number.

"Are you at home?" the lead agent asked without any preamble.

"Yes, why?" The agent's tone alone was enough to have him immediately worried.

"Get your family out now. There's a problem with Tony. I think he's had some kind of psychotic break, and he's on his way to your house to try and kill you."

Jackie had stopped cutting and was watching her husband's facial expression. It was obvious something was very wrong.

"What are you talking about Gibbs? What on earth could cause DiNozzo to do that?"

"We think it's the same condition the marine's we've been investigating suffered from. He's already on his way, Leon. You have to get your family out of there. Try to keep Tony under control until I arrive." The line went dead in Gibbs' characteristic style.

Vance hesitated for a few more seconds before turning to his wife and children.

"Out of the house now! Go across the street to Mrs. Delaney's." He was already herding them toward the garage. "Run fast but stay low so you aren't seen."

"Leon, what is going on? Who was on the phone?" Jackie followed his directions while attempting to understand the suddenly frightening situation. The children had stopped fighting as they, too, moved toward the kitchen door. "I heard you mention Tony's name. Is there something wrong with Tony?"

"Everything will be fine, Jackie. Just stay at Mrs. Delaney's with the kids until I come get you. Now hurry!"

With one last look that said, _you better have a damn good explanation for this, _she grabbed the kids by the hands and rushed from the house.

Vance ran back toward the safe where he kept his gun.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The back door was unlocked. Tony walked inside without difficulty. He had been there several times before. Jackie liked to cook for the team occasionally, and once she realized Tony lived alone he had become sort of a pet project for her. He hated to hurt her this way after she had been so kind to him.

_Do it, do it, do it, do it. _The voice repeated non-stop. He took a deep breath and pressed the cold gun to his clammy forehead. If he was going through with this he had to pull himself together.

He stepped from the mudroom into the kitchen. A pot of water boiled on the stove; diced vegetables lay on a cutting board. He expected to find someone cooking, but the room was eerily quiet and empty.

_Find him Tony. Find him and put a bullet in his brain. He would do it to you. He'll do it to the rest of the team!_

Silently moving to the office next door Tony interrupted the Director standing at his desk, Sig in one hand, the other poised over several bullets scattered in front of him.

The Director looked down at the ammunition, then up at Tony. Gibbs had called only moments before; he hadn't had time to load the weapon.

"You don't have to do this, Tony. This isn't really you," the Director said, his voice barely registering nervousness.

Sorrow swam through the green eyes that met his own. "I wish that were true. But if I don't do this, the rest of the team dies. _Gibbs dies_. I have to make a choice, you or them. I'm sorry, Director, I really am. But I choose them. Now put the weapon down and keep your hands where I can see them."

Vance flinched as he realized DiNozzo's Sig was aimed right between his eyes. He did as Tony requested, placing his own gun on the desk and raising his hands up to show that he was unarmed. "What now? Are you really going to shoot me?"

Tony's thoughts were jumbled, disoriented, mixed-up like pieces of a puzzle lying on a table waiting for someone to put them together. Nothing in his mind matched up anymore.

_Stop wasting time!_

"This isn't something you would ever do of your own free will, Tony," Vance said gently, noting the agent's pale and sweaty countenance. "You're going to destroy my life and yours, too. For no reason."

The gun pointed at the Director wavered slightly while Tony tried to assess the comment and fit it into his increasingly unclear frame of reference.

"No. If I don't do this they'll kill everyone else. The two of us aren't important." His voice trembled slightly, revealing the fact he wasn't entirely sure if what he was saying was actually true. Fact and fiction were mixing together like the colors of a kaleidoscope.

"Who are _they_, Tony?" Vance countered. DiNozzo's cloudy eyes narrowed at the question. "You don't know, do you? You're being used, manipulated. The Tony DiNozzo I know barely follows legitimate orders, let alone the commands of people you can't even identify. Put down the gun, Tony, and let me help you." The Director's eyes were filled with just the slightest tinge of fear, but mostly they displayed concern for the senior field agent.

_He'll shoot you, Tony. You and everyone else. Don't listen to him._

"Please stop," he whispered. If only the voices would get out of his head he might be able to think straight. The way it was, coherent thought was elusive. Ideas tumbled across each other without ever anchoring themselves into place.

"Put your weapon down!" someone commanded. Tony glanced over his shoulder to see a young uniformed officer. It was an additional person who could get hurt in this mess.

_Shit. Jackie must have called the police when I told her and the kids to get out of the house, _Vance realized.

"The situation is under control, officer. I can handle this," Vance informed the new participant. He didn't want to take a chance on things escalating and Tony getting hurt.

"Sorry, sir, but this doesn't look very under control."

"It will be," a steely voice added. Gibbs sauntered into the room, easily walking past the armed policeman to step between Tony and Vance, directly into the line of fire. Vance would have been surprised at the lead agent's quick arrival, but he'd been a passenger in Gibbs' car before and knew there were few Indy drivers who could outpace the man when he needed to be somewhere fast. There were probably photographs of the Charger blasting through every red light in DC.

"Get out of here, Gibbs! This doesn't concern you!" Tony shouted, trying to maintain control of the quickly degenerating situation. _None of this was going the way they had said. Gibbs wasn't supposed to be around. It was supposed to be over and done with before he ever found out._

"It concerns you, DiNozzo, so that makes it my business. Have you forgotten that while you're on my team you belong to me?" Gibbs responded gruffly. "No one else tells you what to do, Tony. Just me."

"I'm doing this for you, boss. They'll kill you if I don't. Don't try to stop me." Tony said it forcefully, a note of resolve creeping back into his voice.

Gibbs stepped toward him. The former gunnery sergeant forced himself to stay calm, despite the unnerving conditions; it was gut-wrenching to see Tony this out of control. If he could just get close enough, maybe he could disarm his agent before this went straight to hell.

Tony tensed at his movement, realigning the gun to point past his silver hair toward Vance. The lead agent raised his hands in the air. "Don't get upset, Tony. I don't know what's going on in that head of yours right now, but no one is going to kill me."

"They will, boss." His voice was plaintive, pleading. Someone had to understand. "I saw it; they showed me. _I have to do this." _Tony's finger rested on the trigger of the gun; in one breath it could all be over.

Tension filled the air; Vance stood very still trying not to spook the field agent.

"Listen to me, Tony. Are you listening?"

DiNozzo's eyes took on a pained expression at the soft, caring tone reserved only for him. It was a sound Tony had heard on several occasions, a vocal quality Gibbs saved for those moments when the situation was grave and, unless circumstances changed fairly quickly, the outcome was going to be extremely bad for the younger man.

"I'm listening, boss."

"Give me the gun and we'll figure this out together. Let me take care of you, Tony. I'll sort it all out, I promise. You know I keep my promises, right?"

The voices clamored loudly; they threatened to drown out Gibbs' quiet request.

_We told you he would say these things. Don't listen!_

He looked at Vance, frozen in place behind his mentor. When he turned his attention back to Gibbs, he saw a bullet hole in the man's temple and blood pouring down the side of his face._ You're hallucinating, Tony. That isn't real._ Searing pain surged from behind Tony's ear toward the front of his brain.

_Shoot Vance now, Tony. Shoot him now. No more hesitating!_

"It's happening, boss! It's happening again and I can't make it stop!" Tony shook his head and shifted forward a few steps, the gun lowering slightly when he moved one hand toward his pulsing forehead. Agony didn't come close to describing the pain reverberating through his skull. He either had to shoot Vance or wait patiently until his own head exploded like a smashed pumpkin; neither alternative seemed very pleasant.

Gibbs experienced the moment even before the event unfolded. It was a skill he had acquired while in combat; Abby would have attributed the sixth sense to a latent psychic ability or magical powers, but he knew it boiled down to a survival instinct. He realized the uniformed officer was about to take a shot at Tony, a shot that at this close range would more than likely prove deadly. The ex-marine rushed forward, his own safety no longer important, impacting his field agent around the waist as the patrolman's gunshot exploded into the small space. The bullet flew safely past them on a trajectory toward the wall behind the startled Director. A second shot reverberated from Tony's gun; Gibbs grunted as he and Tony hit the floor together.

The blue-eyed man landed heavily on DiNozzo, a burning sensation coursing through his left bicep. Instinctively his hand flew up to the newly registered injury; his fingers meeting the sticky wetness of blood. He rolled off of Tony onto his back, his hand covering the bleeding wound.

For a few seconds the world took on a sickening, twisted appearance as a multitude of nerve endings came alive. Vance rushed to his side, moving the lead agent's hand to assess the damage. "I'm fine," Gibbs growled, sitting up. His eyes fell on Tony, who had made it to his knees and was staring at Gibbs with bewilderment.

"I…..shot you. I didn't mean to shoot you." Confusion and terror conflicted his handsome features. He stared down at the gun still clutched lightly in his hands before dropping it to the floor like he had been scalded by it.

The police officer pointed his gun once more at Tony. "Hands behind your head!" he yelled.

Tony didn't even turn toward the man's voice. He continued to focus entirely on Gibbs. Slowly he stood to move toward his boss.

"I said hands behind your head!" The cop shouted again. The officer reached over and grabbed for Tony's arm. DiNozzo reacted swiftly to the unexpected touch; he turned and punched the law enforcement officer in the jaw. Quickly he delivered a second blow to the man's face, followed by a knee to the stomach. Tony elbowed him on the back of the head and the man hit the floor, dazed and nearly unconscious.

"Stand down, DiNozzo!" Vance called out.

Two more uniformed men joined the melee, pulling Tony off the bleeding and bruised policeman. Tony's face flew up to find Gibbs. "Boss!" He jerked violently, dislodging the hands that were holding him so he could run to the older agent's side.

Tony was panting, his eyes large and scared. He knelt in the floor by Gibbs, frowning at the red stain on his mentor's sleeve. "I'm so sorry; I don't know what I was doing." Tony was on the verge of tears. He could never in his life imagine doing something to hurt Gibbs.

"Tony," was all Gibbs managed to say before DiNozzo was tugged away, the two officers forcing him up and back.

Before the younger agent could process the situation, his arms were pulled behind him and handcuffs were snapped on his wrists. "Stop. I didn't…this isn't what I wanted. Boss!" They held his arms tightly as he twisted and fought to get away. "Take these off of me! You have to let me go!"

Ziva and McGee entered, aghast to find their partner handcuffed and screaming to be released, and Gibbs struggling to stand, his right hand cupped around the blood saturated sleeve of his shirt.

"This man is a federal agent. What are you doing?" Ziva demanded of the officers who were roughly shoving the now restrained, but still fighting, Tony toward the door.

"I don't care who he is; he just shot a man and beat the shit out of one of our officers."

Vance stepped forward. "Both of these men are NCIS agents, making this our jurisdiction. We'll take the suspect into custody and process the scene."

"I don't think so. NCIS deals with marines and you aren't marines. Plus, I think assaulting an officer puts this on our plate."

Vance visibly puffed up, his _don't fuck with me _demeanor exuding from every pore. "I am the Director of the Naval Criminal Investigative Services and I do not intend to get into a pissing match with a uniformed police officer. I am telling you that my agents will take control of this scene and you can have someone from your office contact me regarding any charges you would like to press. Is that understood?"

The two officers exchanged worried glances, clearly intimidated by the Director. Ziva stepped around them and gently took Tony's arm. DiNozzo had stopped yelling and was standing perfectly still with his eyes shut to the horror surrounding him. She carefully nudged him. "Please, Tony, come with me."

When he finally met the Israeli's gaze she saw a level of sorrow and sadness that rarely ever touched his bright, playful eyes; it nearly made her gasp. "Come," she said and led him back toward the living room.

Ducky and Professor Childers entered the office, the ME hurrying to Gibbs' side to check his injury. A quick inspection revealed the bullet hadn't exited; it was still lodged within the bicep. "Has anyone called the paramedics?" the Scot asked with irritation.

"I'll take care of it," McGee responded, glad to do something productive and get away from the scene for a moment. No matter how often he complained about Tony's hubris, watching the man break down was not something he wanted to witness.

"I don't need a damn paramedic," Gibbs grumbled. "I'm fine. Where's DiNozzo? He's the one we need to be worried about."

"There is a bullet embedded in your arm, Jethro, and from the look of it this is more than a minor flesh wound. It will probably require surgery. Now sit down somewhere before you pass out."

Gibbs was feeling a little lightheaded, although that was the last thing he intended to admit to anyone. He propped himself against Vance's desk. "Go check on Tony. He's with Ziva."

Ducky and Childers found them in the living room. Tony was seated on a sofa with his hands still cuffed behind him, Ziva was kneeling in front of him speaking softly, her hand on his knee. She looked up anxiously at their approach.

"He will not respond to me."

The elderly ME sat down beside him. "Anthony, it's Ducky. Can you hear me?"

Tony's eyes closed then re-opened; his breathing deep and rapid. He blinked again then looked over at the physician; sweat beaded his forehead and his already sallow complexion had taken on a cadaverous hue. "I shot him, Ducky," he whispered disbelievingly. "I shot him. Why would I do that?" He swallowed roughly and blinked again, his face pinched with uncertainty. "Why…why am I here?"

_You messed up again, DiNozzo._

"Just let us take care of everything, my boy. Ziva will stay with you. Try not to worry; no one blames you for what happened." Tony nodded slightly in response, still appearing dazed and usure of what was happening.

Vance walked in followed by a slow-moving Gibbs who was gingerly cradling his arm. "I couldn't keep him away," the Director explained brusquely. Ducky moved closer to them, giving the lead agent a derisive look for not staying put.

"Anthony is very disoriented; I believe he's in a state of emotional shock, which could last for several days following a stressful event of this nature. We need to get him out of here."

"Do you really believe he's been brainwashed?" Vance asked.

The doctor sighed. "I honestly don't know, but he's exhibiting all the same behaviors as the other men. And despite the fact he's never been a big fan of yours, Director, I don't think under normal circumstances he would try to shoot you."

The Director looked over at the agent who had lowered his head and was staring at the floor. Ziva had moved next to him on the couch and draped her arm around his shoulders. "I know that, Dr. Mallard. Tony might be a screw-up sometimes, but this is totally out of character for him."

"Which is why we need to get him out of here before anyone else shows up," Gibbs persisted.

Vance considered their options. "I'll have Ziva and McGee take him back to headquarters for now. We'll figure out what to do from there. Do we need to keep him restrained?"

Ducky glanced over at Professor Childers who took the opportunity to weigh in on the discussion. "Considering his state of mind, I would suggest he either be kept restrained or in a secure location. It is best not to take any chances; at this time he could be a danger to not only others but himself as well."

Vance thinned his lips and nodded. "McGee!" he bellowed. The junior agent appeared in the doorway. "You and Ziva take Tony back to interrogation. We'll be there shortly."

"Alright, Director," McGee responded cautiously. "The paramedics are here." His wide eyes hopped from the group of men, to Tony and Ziva, and back again.

Ducky gave Gibbs a pointed stare that indicated he was not in a mood to fight over the bleeding man's need for medical treatment. "Come on, Jethro."

The lead agent was watching Tony, who had closed his eyes again and was biting his lip. He stepped over to the young man and kneeled by his side. "I'm going to have to leave for a little while, Tony. Ziva and McGee are going to stay with you. I'll be back as soon as I can, ok?"

Tony met his worried gaze with his own look of bewildered confusion. "Boss, I...I don't know what's...going on right now." He looked around the Pottery Barn decorated living room. "How did I get here?" He continued to chew his lip and Gibbs could see the wetness in his eyes that was threatening to fall. The lead agent decided to hold it together for both of them.

"That doesn't matter, Tony. I'm going to take care of everything, but it might take me a little time. So just go with Ziva and McGee and let me worry about all this. Got it?"

DiNozzo didn't look even mildly convinced, but he nodded in agreement anyway. The senior agent rubbed the back of Tony's neck, continuing the movement until he could hear Tony breathing a little less harshly. He wished there was more he could do, but for now his words of encouragement were all he could provide. He reluctantly tore himself away from Tony's watery eyes and stood.

Before Ducky forced him off to the ambulance, the older man turned to McGee. "Don't let Ziva drive; I think DiNozzo might get sick if you do." Tim nodded in acknowledgement. Gibbs lowered his voice. "You two take care of him until I get there. Is that clear?"

"Crystal, boss," McGee replied stoically.

Despite the younger agent's reassurance, Gibbs felt as if he was leaving Tony without someone to watch his six.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Ziva and McGee stood behind the one-way glass in the observation room. Tony had been sitting in the hard steel chair, barely shifting position, for over an hour. They had removed the handcuffs and tried to talk to him about what happened, but when he refused to speak the two agents left him alone.

"I've never seen him sit so still," McGee commented. "Unless he was unconscious, drugged, or asleep."

"I have often prayed for him to be quiet, but now that he is…..I do not like it. It is very unsettling," Ziva added. "I would actually be glad to hear a stupid movie reference right now."

"This reminds me of "The Manchurian Candidate", starring Frank Sinatra and Angela Lansbury. Sinatra plays a guy who is programmed to kill a high-powered senator. Angela Lansbury was really scary, not at all like the sweet old lady in "Murder, She Wrote." McGee grinned sadly at his impersonation. "Tony made me watch it last year during a spy movie marathon."

"I love you, Tim, but you are no Tony."

Watching his friend sit statue-like, gazing fixedly at his hands, McGee agreed. "No, Ziva, I'm not." The angels definitely broke the mold when they made DiNozzo.

The door opened and Abby joined them. "Any change?" she asked.

Ziva shook her head. "No. He is almost catatonic."

"Heard anything from Ducky and Gibbs?" McGee asked.

"Yeah, Ducky called. The bullet is lodged deep in Gibbs' muscle; they're going to have to operate to get it out. He'll probably go into surgery in the next hour or so. From the yelling I could hear in the background he's not too happy about it."

"Should we go to the hospital?" Ziva asked, not sure which of the two men in her life she should be with.

Abby lowered her voice. "He yelled _keep your asses at the office with DiNozzo_." She giggled at her bad imitation. "I'll go anyway, but I wanted to see Tony first."

"If anyone can get him to talk, maybe you can," McGee encouraged. "Are you going in?"

"Yep," she replied. "Wish me luck."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Abby walked into the interrogation room slowly, twisting her hands and smiling. "Hi, Tony. I thought you might want some company." He glanced up at her briefly, then returned to staring at his hands.

The Goth moved the empty chair next to him and sat down. She reached out to put her hand over his, but he jerked away from her. "Tony, please. I only want to help you."

He eventually lifted his eyes to look at her. "You know what I did, Abby. I… shot Gibbs." He looked at his offending hands again with disgust. The recoil of the gunshot blasted through his memory and he shuddered. "I think…..I tried to shoot Vance. I'm still not sure why I did that," he added almost as an afterthought. "I don't deserve your help."

"This isn't your fault, Tony. You've been influenced by someone else. We're going to prove it for you."

"No, Abs. This _is_ my fault. I did it, and I don't expect any sympathy." He rubbed the tender spot on the back of his head. "I've earned whatever they do to me. So please, I'm begging you, just go."

"I can't do that, Tony. You're my friend, and I won't turn my back on you just because you've decided to wallow in self-pity." She reached her hand out to him again; he flinched, but didn't make her stop touching him.

"I'm not worth it. Don't waste your time on me, Abby."

"Let me decide what I want to spend my time on, ok?"

The door rattled again and Vance walked in chewing on a toothpick. "I need to ask Tony a few questions, Ms. Sciuto. Could you excuse us?"

She squeezed Tony's arm. "Sure, Director," she replied. Leaning next to the Director's ear, she whispered. "We'll be watching you."

"Tell McGee and Ziva hello," he answered, fully aware the three of them would be standing behind the glass prepared to take action should Tony show any signs of duress.

Abby smiled knowingly and left.

Vance moved the chair back into position across from DiNozzo. Tony stared down at the table trying to control his breathing. Images popped in front of his vision; he saw himself holding the Director at gunpoint, but then Vance had the gun and was shooting Gibbs, laughing hysterically while the lead agent bled out at his feet. Tony shook his head trying to clear away some of the conflicting pictures, unable to tell which were real and which were not. Were all of his friends really going to die now because he had failed to complete his mission and the man across from him was still alive? Or was it all just some crazy, fucked up hallucination he'd conjured up in his mind?

_You could still kill him, Tony. Jump across the table and strangle him before anyone can stop you. _He watched in horror as his own hands twitched at the command only he could hear.

"I won't let you do it," he whispered to his flexing hands.

"What did you say?" Vance asked, but Tony didn't reply, just stared at his hands.

When Vance continued speaking, Tony tried to focus, but the pain in his head was unrelenting; it was just too difficult so he gave up. He could see the Director's lips moving, but nothing Vance said made sense. He let the words pour over him like an avalanche of meaningless sounds that he couldn't begin to respond to. Eventually Vance slammed his hand on the table. Tony jumped as the sound echoed loudly.

The interrogation room door opened again and someone spoke to Vance. The Director frowned and gave DiNozzo a pitying look before he walked to his side of the table. "Come on, Tony."

Vance wasn't sure what to make of DiNozzo's current condition. Dr. Mallard had said the younger man was in a state of shock; the confused expression and lack of communication led him to agree. The latest development wasn't going to help the situation. He placed his hand under Tony's arm to get the agent moving toward the door.

Ziva, McGee, and Abby emerged from the observation room into the hallway. "Where are you taking him?" Ziva asked.

"We've had a call from the JAG office. It seems our friends at the DC police made sure they knew about our little incident since the LEO's were concerned we might try to cover it up. I've been ordered to send Tony down for booking. He's going to be arraigned tomorrow morning."

McGee crossed his arms. "On what charges?"

"Attempted murder, breaking and entering, and assaulting an officer." Vance sighed. "Look, I don't want this to happen either. But it's out of my hands right now."

"I will go with him," Ziva said, standing next to Tony. "You two go see Gibbs. I will come to the hospital when it is over."

Abby considered for a moment then nodded in agreement. "I'm probably not dressed for booking anyway," she commented, scanning her skull embossed miniskirt and platform heels. She gave Ziva a peck on the cheek. "Take care of him," she urged.

"I will. You take care of Gibbs."

"You know it," she answered.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Professor Childers turned the corner of the hallway toward interrogation to find Vance, Ziva, two agents, and Tony walking toward him. Even though DiNozzo hadn't followed through with shooting the Director, he had come damn close. The scientist wanted to stay as near to Tony as possible; any actions he observed the young man taking now would enable him to make further adjustments in the process the next time. He also thought he could find some more use for the agent; he had invested too much time and effort into him to let his prize go now. Besides, his potential buyer had requested a live demonstration of his techniques; DiNozzo would do just fine for the display.

"Director, I was coming to see if there was anything I could do to help." Childers smiled disarmingly. It was to his advantage that no one yet suspected him of any involvement. He was impressed at his own nerve and audacity in assisting the team so far; it had ensured his place in the center of the action.

"I appreciate your offer, Professor. I'm sure we will need some guidance from you; actually, why don't you wait for me in my office? I have a few questions about all this you might be able to answer. I'll be back up shortly."

"Of course. Anything I can do to assist," the doctor replied, stepping aside to let them pass.

For a split second, Tony thought he recognized the voice. He flashed back to a white room, someone looming over him, threatening to lock him inside forever. His addled mind sifted through bits and pieces of repressed memory. This couldn't be true; it couldn't be real. _You'll do what I say, Tony, or all your friends will die._

His eyes locked onto Childers, and in that instant each man realized what the other knew.

Without warning, Tony surged forward and slammed the older man into the wall, pressing his forearm into the professor's neck. Childers squirmed, trying to dislodge himself from the suffocating grasp.

"I should kill you," Tony seethed through clenched teeth.

"DiNozzo, what are you doing?" Vance yelled. Ziva and the other agents tried to pull Tony off the bespectacled man, but DiNozzo yanked free and punched Childers in the mouth, busting his lip. The senior field agent's face was contorted with rage.

The two agents grasped Tony and wrestled him to the floor before he could attack the defenseless man again. "Stop it, Tony!" Ziva cried before reluctantly cuffing Tony's hands behind his back.

DiNozzo turned his head to the side so he could see her. "Let me kill him, Ziva," he pleaded. "This will all be over if you'll just let me kill him. Everything that's happening is because of him!"

The former Mossad assassin looked at Childers, who rubbed his swollen lip and shrugged, appearing to have no explanation for the attack. "Whatever was done to him must be causing a manifestation of extreme psychosis. I'm not sure why he's fixated on me, but we can't pay much attention to anything he says right now."

Tony's partner knelt by his ear and caressed his tight shoulders. "Relax, chaver. You are my friend, Tony. Please stop fighting everyone. We are trying to help you."

"Someone has to listen to me, Ziva." The hostility faded from his hopeless green eyes. "If you're my friend, why won't you believe me?"

The beautiful Israeli had no answer.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Ziva drove slowly along the streets of DC toward Bethesda Naval Hospital, the setting sun following her as she carefully navigated through traffic. It was not her characteristic kamikaze driving style, but she needed time to think and process, so she meandered along without hurrying.

Watching Tony go through the booking process had hurt her deeply. Despite what she might say to the others, she always considered Tony to be a good and honest person. She knew he possessed a depth of character far beyond what he showed the world on a daily basis.

To witness him being fingerprinted, photographed, and treated like one of the criminals he had spent his entire adult life pursuing broke her heart.

He remained silent as the officers told him what to do, his head slightly bowed and making no eye contact with anyone. There had been no jokes, no sarcastic comments, no quick-witted repartee. He had gone through the motions, compliant and docile, and she sensed that he had already determined his own guilt without the need for a jury of his peers. She tried to silently give him strength, but he seemed barely to register her presence.

Before they took him away to a cell, she managed to catch his eyes, hoping he could read her expression without the need for words. She wished she had taught him some Hebrew, since he was her chaver, her friend, and nothing that ever happened would change that. Instead, she placed a hand over her heart and nodded to him. He returned her gesture with a wisp of a smile, and then he was gone.

To be honest, he was so much more than a friend, but less than a lover. He was something indefinable and neither of them might ever determine what the other meant. Their relationship was deeper than platonic love, but definitely not a romance. They had fought, flirted, teased, and tempted each other beyond reason. Yet they always drew back, neither of them ever willing to be the one to take the next step and potentially destroy the boundaries they had, for whatever reasons, unconsciously erected. Despite the lack of physical intimacy, the connection they shared was undeniable, and to see him hurting and in pain was like a knife in her belly.

Pulling into the hospital parking lot Ziva took a few moments to wipe away the stray tears that streaked down her cheeks. It would not do for the rest of the team to see her crying. For Tony she feared the worst was yet to come, and she would dig deep inside to find enough strength for the both of them.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs was propped in bed with a thick bandage circling his upper arm. His good arm was tethered to an IV. McGee and Abby stood across the room close to the door looking ready to flee at any minute; Ducky and Gibbs had been arguing off and on for nearly an hour.

"You cannot do anything for Tony right now anyway, Jethro. There is no reason for you to leave the hospital tonight. At least stay here and rest, take enough antibiotics that you don't get an infection, and I'll sign you out myself in the morning." Dr. Mallard tried to reason with the lead agent, working hard to keep the frustration out of his voice.

"I can try to figure out who did this to him!" Gibbs countered. "That would be better than just laying here doing nothing!"

"Professor Childers is putting out inquiries and making phone calls to others in his field as we speak. Let him explore his contacts and see what turns up. One night is not going to make that much difference."

Gibbs didn't express that he hated knowing Tony was alone right now. As a single man Tony spent a lot of time by himself; however it was one thing to be alone by choice, quite another to be alone because you couldn't do anything about it. DiNozzo struggled with being locked up when he was in a perfectly rational state of mind; his current mental status would not hold up well to isolation. He also couldn't forget that all the other men they were investigating were either dead or permanently injured from suicide attempts; he couldn't live with adding Tony to that list.

Ziva knocked and entered the tiny room. She stopped beside Abby and McGee. "Has he already laid an escape plan?" she asked with a smirk.

They looked at her strangely.

"Hatched," Gibbs corrected. "You hatch, not lay, an escape plan, and yeah, I'm working on one. Think you could drive the getaway car?"

She smiled and walked next to the bed. "I do not believe Dr. Mallard would be very pleased with me if I helped you break out of here. Are you alright?"

"Ah, I could've got that bullet out with my own knife if they'd left me alone."

Ducky scoffed. "Wanna take a bet he could do it?" Abby whispered to McGee.

"Nope," McGee replied softly.

Gibbs noticed that Ziva was not joining the banter, but standing quietly with her hands laced in front of her. He could see the faintest trace of tears on her cheeks.

He took her hand. "How's DiNozzo?"

She tilted her head to the side and struggled for words that would not reveal the depths of her concern for her partner.

"I did what I could by being there. Because he is in law enforcement they were putting him in a separate cell for the night and they agreed to watch him carefully. The arraignment is at 0900 tomorrow morning."

"Boss, I've been thinking about that. Does Tony need a lawyer?" McGee asked.

Dammit, the kid was right. At least someone on this team was thinking, Gibbs admonished himself. "He probably does, Tim. Do we know any decent lawyers?" He shook his head. "That's a stupid question, there are no decent lawyers."

"I could contact the young man who handled mother's estate, although I don't know if he has any experience with criminal cases," Ducky offered.

"No, I have a better idea. Hand me my phone," Gibbs said.

"Who are you calling, bossman?" Abby tugged the phone out of his jacket and handed it over.

"The one lawyer I know with balls big enough to take on this kind of shitty case."

The rest of the team exchanged curious glances, not sure who he could be talking about.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Well dressed lawyers in thousand dollar suits carrying equally expensive briefcases walked briskly down the marbled hallway of the Washington DC federal courthouse. None of them paid any attention to the knot of people clustered in the alcove. The agents had been in this building before providing testimony for cases, but never to defend one of their own; it was not an experience any of them were enjoying.

"There you are." The sweet feminine voice greeted them.

"Ms. Hart," Gibbs said, shifting his left arm which was now hanging in a sling. "I appreciate you were willing to get involved in this."

She smiled, her pale blue eyes sparkling. "You know I love a challenge, Jethro."

"Have you had a chance to meet with him?" Ziva got to the point.

M. Allison Hart took a deep breath and turned serious. "I just left him. He's…..been better. I couldn't get him to say much, but he seems to have a basic understanding of what's going on. He's had a pretty rough night."

"What do you mean?" Gibbs didn't like the implication of her words.

Hart's pretty red lips thinned. "I think some of the guards got a little rough with him. He's got some bruises and scratches but wouldn't tell me what happened."

"Dammit. Are you going to be able to get him out of here today?"

"I advised him to plead not guilty and then I plan to request a psychiatric evaluation. At the very least I hope to get him sent to a hospital for observation." She checked her watch. "We have about thirty minutes until the hearing starts. I'm going to see if I can talk to the prosecutor, get a feel for what the other side is thinking. I'll meet you inside." She smiled at Gibbs before sashaying purposefully down the hall, her pointed heels clicking against the tile.

"I still can't believe she's the one you called," Abby commented. "She's so…..lawyer Barbie."

"Those are not the words I would use to describe her," Ziva stated sullenly.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows. "Don't let those manicured nails fool you; she'll put up one hell of a fight for Tony."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony sat in the small room waiting for someone to come get him. He didn't know how long it had been since Allison Hart had left; it was still difficult for him to keep track of time. There were moments he would catch himself staring at a particular spot and not have any idea how long he had been looking at it or what he had been thinking. It was like his mind would go completely blank.

His head was pounding again, but he hadn't complained. After the guards found out he was being charged with assaulting a police officer they had managed to "bump into" him frequently. He ran his tongue over the cut on his lip; he doubted they would be overly concerned about his headache. Small halos had appeared around all the lights in the room, which he doubted was a good sign either, but he kept that to himself as well.

Maybe he was going to have a stroke; the idea didn't bother him very much. After what he had done he deserved far worse. Not only had he failed to carry out what he was supposed to do to save his friends, he'd managed to shoot Gibbs in the process. If everything had gone according to the plan they had given him, he and Vance would both be dead by now.

Maybe it was best that nothing had worked out; Vance and his family didn't deserve to be brought into this, they had done nothing wrong. He could only hope that an opportunity would present itself for him to fix all his screw ups. The only one who deserved to get hurt out of all this was him.

Well, maybe not just him. _Childers._ He shivered again at the thought of the man, walking around with Gibbs and the team like he was one of them. After trying to tell Ziva what he remembered, he realized no one was going to believe him. His actions had convinced them he was crazy, and accusing Childers would only sound like one more nutty thing coming out of his mouth. Then again, what he thought he remembered about the professor might not be real either; at this point there was no way for him to tell what was a true event and what someone had made up and stuck inside his head.

_You are totally out of your fucking mind, DiNozzo,_ he decided. _And this time you are absolutely, positively screwed._

A guard entered the room. "Let's go," he said curtly.

Tony stood, handcuffs and chains clinking. He stumbled as he walked toward the door, unable to control the lightheaded, weakened feeling that had penetrated his body. "Come on, federal agent. Don't faint on us like a little girl."

Normally, he would meet the smart-ass guard word-for-word, but today he could think of nothing to say at all.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Hart took a seat at one of the tables in front of the room. The team filed into seats behind her, nervously waiting for the first glimpse of their friend. Abby tapped her fingers together and bounced her legs. Ziva placed a hand on the Goth's knee to calm her. McGee continuously wiped at his sweaty forehead with a handkerchief. Ducky cleaned his glasses for the third time in ten minutes; Palmer bit his nails. Vance switched his ever-present toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. Gibbs sat ramrod straight on the hard wooden bench, his neutral expression revealing nothing about the turmoil he was feeling inside.

Professor Childers crossed his legs and calmly observed their interactions.

A side door opened; Abby grabbed McGee's arm and squeezed tightly. "Oh, Tony," she whispered. He was wearing a bright orange jumpsuit and his normally immaculate hair was a tousled mess. A dark purple bruise spread beneath his left eye; his lip was split and crusted with blood. He was handcuffed to a chain around his waist and a pair of shackles on his ankles made his steps short and awkward.

Tony's shrouded eyes glanced upward meeting Gibbs' own before quickly shifting away. The glimpse was enough; Gibbs had already seen the dull flatness, the shame and the fear that made his stomach tighten.

In that one look he knew Very Special Agent Tony DiNozzo was gone, and it was a shell of his friend who shuffled into the room to meet his fate.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Thanks for all the encouragement after the last chapter! I know it took things in a different direction than some of you expected, but from your responses I don't think most of you minded. I researched the legal and medical references, but if I still made mistakes I ask for forgiveness in advance. After this chapter you'll have no doubt about Childers' evil intentions!**

**You guys really are the best and I look forward to chatting with you after this chapter! : )**

**TLH**

Tony's head never lifted as two guards led him to an empty chair next to Allison Hart. The lawyer leaned over and whispered something to him; as far as Gibbs could tell DiNozzo made no effort to respond.

The judge entered and took his place at the bench, quickly starting the proceedings. Gibbs watched Tony's shoulders rise and fall with each of his heavy breaths; the agent's head stayed bent and he stared at the table in front of him. Gibbs vaguely listened as various legal statements were made and discussed, his blue eyes riveted on the young man who, although seated only a few feet away, might as well have been on another continent.

"How do you plead, Agent DiNozzo?" the judge finally asked.

Tony didn't move. He could tell by the judge's stern features the man expected him to do something, but for the life of him Tony couldn't figure out what he wanted. Hart spoke into his ear again, urging him to stand; she took his arm and helped him as he unsteadily rose to his feet.

Gibbs turned sharply toward Ducky. "What's wrong with him?" The ME shook his head unknowingly.

The field agent swayed slightly when the attorney let go of his arm; he looked around the room, blinking rapidly.

"Agent DiNozzo, I expect you to enter a plea. Do you understand me?"

Tony opened his mouth but didn't speak; he wrinkled his brow as he tried to find an answer to satisfy the angry judge. "Wh..what?" was all he managed to come up with. He tumbled back and Allison grabbed onto his arm to prevent him from falling.

Gibbs pushed Ducky aside and started forward. A guard stopped him from approaching the lawyer's table. "Tony," he called.

The judge pounded his gavel. "Sit down, sir!"

He watched helplessly as Tony's eyes roamed the room, searching for him, eventually settling on his own blue eyes. "Boss?" Gibbs couldn't help thinking the sound of his agent's voice was like a confused child's. He flexed against the security guards who were now holding him back from reaching Tony's side.

"Agent DiNozzo, I need you to enter a plea immediately!" the judge echoed his previous statement, clearly frustrated with the turn of events.

Tony turned toward the man's voice, trying to track the sound that was distant and hollow in his ears. His limbs had gone tingly and numb; the weakness he had felt earlier spreading through his entire body. _DiNozzo's do not pass out, _he chided himself, but the battle was already lost.

Gibbs could do nothing as he watched Tony's eyes glaze over and roll back in his head; his suddenly limp body wilting downward before impacting harshly with the wood floor. Hart knelt next to him, frantically tapping his cheek trying to revive him. "We need a doctor," she called anxiously. "I think he's having a seizure."

Gibbs elbowed past the guards and closer to the agent, seeing his friend's body stiffen and jerk. His eyes were open but tilted back to reveal only the whites. "Ducky!" Gibbs yelled, unable to hide his fear.

"I'm a doctor!" the elderly Scot admonished the guard who tried to impede his approach. By the time he and Childers reached the unconscious man his body had relaxed, but he was breathing in ragged gasps. Tiny lines of blood ran from where his skin had strained against the handcuffs on his wrists. "Someone get these cuffs off before he hurts himself!" Dr. Mallard demanded.

The judge, who stood off to the side watching the unfolding drama, nodded to a guard. "Do it," he ordered. Minutes later, the handcuffs and shackles were removed.

A pair of paramedics rushed in to join the chaos; immediately taking Tony's blood pressure and pulse. One of the medics produced an oxygen mask and held it to his face.

"He's going again," Childers observed. The paramedic quickly removed the mask.

Tony convulsed once more, his muscles contracting violently. "Roll him on his side," the EMT directed. "We don't want him to aspirate." Dr. Mallard and Professor Childers helped support the agent for several minutes until the seizure ended.

"Get a damn line in so I can administer an anti-convulsant!" the first EMT commanded.

"I'm working on it!" the second responded, ripping a package open with his teeth.

They finally inserted an IV and added the first dose of medication. "Still no sign of consciousness," one commented before they lifted Tony to a gurney. His features were still slack and his eyes stayed closed.

They barely had him settled before the stiffening repeated itself. "Shit—third time's a charm." The two men tilted him on his side again.

Abby started crying while the team watched the seizure grip the senior field agent's limbs. McGee wrapped his arms around the Goth and let her sob into his chest.

Gibbs ran a hand through his silver hair as they waited several long minutes for Tony's body to relax and become still once more. Quickly the paramedics moved the agent to the waiting ambulance. He followed behind, along with the rest of the team, not sure of what was happening to his protégé and feeling completely powerless to stop it.

After the stretcher was loaded inside the vehicle, Gibbs used his undamaged arm to pull himself up and hop inside, only to come face-to-face with one of the EMT's. The younger man stared into his unblinking blue eyes. "Where do you think you're going?"

"With him," the agent answered calmly.

"We only let family ride along," the paramedic explained.

"I'm his boss, his next-of-kin, and I hold his medical power-of-attorney. I am his family." The hard blue eyes didn't give an inch. He silently dared the man to argue with him.

"You aren't going to leave, are you?" the tech asked.

"Nope."

The EMT sighed. "I didn't think so." He shut the doors behind them.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"My name is Rich," the paramedic introduced himself. "Just try to stay out of the way, Mr….."

"Gibbs." The lead agent shook hands with the younger man.

"Mr. Gibbs. I'll try to let you know what I'm doing, sir."

"You don't have to call me sir. I work for a living."

Rich laughed. "You sound like my Dad."

Gibbs supposed he was more than old enough to be the young EMT's father. Rich was adding a heart monitor to DiNozzo's finger and adjusting the medication in the IV line. "How's he doing?" the lead agent asked.

The soft thrumming of Tony's heart filled the ambulance. "He seems pretty strong. It just depends on what's causing all of this electrical activity in his brain."

Gibbs dabbed at the sweat that had collected on his agent's forehead. "You sure you two aren't related?" Rich wondered.

"No, we aren't related. Not by blood, anyway."

"Hmm," Rich responded. "Could've fooled me."

Tony's eyes fluttered and his jaw clenched. The rest of his muscles tensed again in what appeared to be painful contortions. Gibbs gritted his own teeth along with the younger man. "I'm going to hit him with another dose of meds," Rich explained, sounding somewhat concerned as he added another syringe into the IV line.

"Is this normal?"

"No, but it does happen occasionally. The multiple seizures are known as status epilepticus when they continue like this without the patient returning to consciousness; I know it must be hard to watch." The convulsion continued; Gibbs wanted to hold Tony down or try to stop it, but he knew that would only make it worse.

"Does it hurt?" Gibbs asked. DiNozzo normally possessed a fluidity of movement that revealed his coordination and balance. To see his limbs stretched unnaturally taut made Gibbs own body ache in sympathy.

"No, there might be some muscle soreness later, but he can't feel anything while it's happening." Tony made a slight gagging sound; the EMT frowned.

"Let's turn him on his side again, Agent Gibbs." Rich suggested. "He can't swallow or cough right now and I'm concerned he's going to get fluid in his lungs which could lead to pneumonia."

"He had pneumonic plague a few years back; he can't get pneumonia again," Gibbs commented with more than a little worry as he helped the younger man gently place Tony on his side.

"Plauge? You're kidding me, right?" Rich asked.

"Nope, not kidding."

The tech gave Tony's orange jumpsuit an assessing gaze. "What's he in trouble for? You seem like a pretty good guy; I can't imagine you'd be hanging out with a common criminal."

The seizure ended and they carefully lay Tony flat again. Gibbs looked hopefully for his green eyes to open, but still nothing. "Come on, DiNozzo, wake up for me." There was no response. The medic tugged a light blanket over the agent and reapplied the oxygen mask.

"He shot me," Gibbs said with a note of affection. "The damn idiot shot me. It was an accident, but I owe him an ass-kicking for it." The crusty former gunnery sergeant pushed his agent's sweaty hair back; he let his hand linger on top of Tony's head, hoping that somehow he would sense that he wasn't alone. And to think, all this started with what was supposed to be a fun-filled vacation for DiNozzo. Tony would never get another vacation approved by him again for as long as he lived.

Rich grinned. "I'm glad I'm not a fed. The plague? Your partner shoots you and you're taking care of him on the way to the hospital? Sounds like a screwed up job."

"This kind of crazy stuff happens to us all the time. Well, mostly to DiNozzo." Gibbs gave him a small smile.

The EMT's tone turned more serious. "I hope everything turns out alright for you and Agent DiNozzo. With someone like you watching out for him, I'm sure he'll be fine."

Fine—maybe after all this he would be fine, but would he still be Tony? Gibbs wasn't entirely sure.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Leroy Jethro Gibbs was a difficult man to say no to, mainly because he refused to accept no for an answer. When the emergency room staff told him he wasn't allowed to go back to the treatment room with Tony, the agent just ignored them and walked in like he owned the place. It was a tactic that worked the majority of the time, and it succeeded on this occasion as well. Most people didn't want to deal with conflict if they could avoid it.

He observed while they poked, prodded, touched, and tested his senior field agent. Tony was definitely right when he declared that a trip to Bethesda got him treated like a pin cushion. They cut the jumpsuit off him and attached a plethora of leads and monitors to various locations, starting with EEG lines on his forehead. Through it all, the younger man stayed steadfastly unconscious. When his body arched and twisted again the ER physician called for an intubation kit. "Is that necessary?" Gibbs asked, indicating his displeasure with the invasive procedure.

The doctor continued to prep Tony for the process without pausing. "It's only to prevent aspiration and provide temporary airway support. I'll remove the tube as soon as the seizures are under control, hopefully before he regains consciousness."

The lead agent cringed as he watched the doctor slide the tube down Tony's throat. He knew how angry the young man would be if he woke up and found himself attached to the ventilator.

Gibbs had never been so grateful for anything as when the seizures finally stopped, although DiNozzo was receiving medication to ensure they didn't return. At least he appeared to be out of immediate danger. The ER doctor approached Gibbs, who was seated in a small plastic chair next to Tony's bed. "We obviously need to admit him. I'm arranging for a neurologist to come down and decide what needs to happen next in order to find out what caused this episode." The doctor's pager went off. "Excuse me, I have to take a call."

The young doctor stepped to the nurse's station for several minutes where he conducted an animated phone conversation. Eventually he returned to the small area where Gibbs was waiting. The physician glanced down at Tony, considered the bright orange jumpsuit he had been wearing upon his arrival, and back at the lead agent. "I don't know what you guys are involved in, but it seems like there are some important people who are interested. Is there a Dr. Childers around here?"

Gibbs was taken aback by the question. "There's a Professor Childers. He's probably in the waiting room. Why?"

"I've been directed to give him complete privileges at this hospital and to arrange for him to be the primary neurologist in charge of Agent DiNozzo's care. No one else is to touch your agent without Dr. Childers' explicit permission. It seems your friend is now in the custody of the Department of Homeland Security."

"What?" Gibbs demanded. "Who was that on the phone?"

"That was my Chief of Staff. He just finished a conversation with the Secretary of Homeland Security. I need to find this Dr. Childers immediately."

"Follow me. I think I need to find him, too." Gibbs steamrolled out of the ER, determined to figure out what the professor was doing and why he hadn't been informed.

The two men made their way to the waiting room where they discovered the rest of the team who had followed them over from the courthouse. Vance, Allison Hart, Ducky, and Dr. Childers were gathered together with the JAG prosecutor. Ziva, McGee, Abby and Palmer stood to the side looking very displeased.

"Gibbs!" Abby exclaimed, wrapping herself around the silver-haired man's neck. "How is he?"

"He's hanging in there, Abs. He's not awake yet, but they have him stabilized. What's going on here?"

The JAG prosecutor crossed his arms. "It seems your agent has been removed from our agency's list of concerns. All charges have been transferred into the Department of Homeland Security since he's been determined a national security threat and a potential enemy combatant."

Gibbs shook his head. "That is the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life. How the hell did this happen?"

"I don't know, but since my participation in this case is over I'm going to excuse myself. I really do hope Agent DiNozzo recovers." The prosecutor nodded at them and left.

"Care to explain?" Gibbs leveled a blue-eyed gaze at Dr. Childers.

"This is the best outcome we could hope for, Agent Gibbs. Tony is now out of the traditional court system and we have the chance to discover exactly what happened to him. Once that information has been gleaned, I can see that the charges against him are dropped and his record can be expunged. Everyone's lives will go back to normal."

"So you arranged for all this?" Vance asked.

"I made a few phone calls," he responded quietly.

"And Tony is completely in your custody?"

The professor drew himself up to his full height and met Gibbs' stare with his own dark-eyed intensity. It was time to let them know exactly who they were dealing with. "For now, yes. Agent DiNozzo has knowledge locked in his mind that is very important to me and to the defense of our country. It's my job to gather that intelligence, and I intend to do so. I hope all of you will cooperate with me in this endeavor. I assure you it is my goal to help Tony deal with this and get on with his life." The grey-haired professor paused. "I'll take care of him as if he were my own son."

Silence descended on the group, all eyes turning toward Gibbs. The fact that Gibbs treated Tony like_ his_ own son was a truth none of them ever acknowledged out loud, but each of them knew nevertheless. Challenging that role was definitely not a good idea, and the professor had thrown down the gauntlet without a second thought. They watched and waited for the lead agent to reply.

"I wouldn't expect you to do anything less," the ex-marine said softly. The two men locked gazes, each making his position perfectly clear without saying a word. Gibbs turned his back on the professor dismissively. "Ms. Hart, I assume this is all legal?"

The attractive lawyer sighed. "I'm afraid so, Jethro. As long as he's considered a terrorist threat he can be detained without a trial. I don't think there's anything else I can do."

"We appreciate your help," Gibbs acknowledged. "I'll call you if there's anything more that comes up."

Her red lips curved upward. "I hope you call me anyway," she said sweetly, her intentions more than obvious. Abby and Ziva both rolled their eyes as she strolled from the room.

Childers looked at his watch. "I'm going to check on my patient. I need to get him settled in a room and there are a battery of tests I need to have run. I'll be back to get you shortly."

After he left, the group gathered together. "What do you make of this, Ducky?" Abby had latched back onto Gibbs' neck; he rubbed the top of her shoulders absently while he waited for the doctor's reply.

The ME scratched his head. "I'm not really sure, Jethro. I have to say I'm quite surprised by Professor Childers' determination to take control of Anthony's case. He seems extremely resolved to both help the poor boy and use him to further his own research. But he is a highly regarded neurologist who knows more about the type of difficulties Tony is facing than anyone I can think of. We would be remiss to not use his expertise."

"I don't get a good vibe from him, boss," Abby whispered in Gibbs' ear. "He looks at Tony like he's a lab specimen, some kind of research monkey that you lock in a cage and do experiments on all day."

Gibbs kissed the top of her dark black hair. "You're right about that, Abs. I don't trust him either. There's definitely something not right about him, even if he has been trying to help us." He detached Abby's arms and handed her to McGee. "As soon as we make sure Tony's alright I think it's time to dig deeper into Childers' background no matter what database we have to hack into to do it."

McGee and Ziva looked at each other. "You got it, boss," McGee agreed and Ziva nodded.

Gibbs smiled. They really were the best team in the world.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Someone moved Tony's arm, held it, and placed it back down on the bed. He felt something cold on his chest. Struggling to swallow, he choked, immediately recognizing the feel of hard plastic tubing down his throat.

_Fuck. _He couldn't quite remember how he'd gotten into this current mess, so he fought to open his eyes. After several minutes he managed to get his eyelids to cooperate and some light filtered in. Knowing the routine, he forced himself to not gag, fairly certain that when someone realized he was awake they would take the tube out. At least that was the way it had always worked before.

He blinked around, trying to locate a doctor, a nurse, or Gibbs. He couldn't turn his head very far in either direction, but he saw an image in the shadows. Unable to speak, he willed whoever was standing on the other side of the room to see him. When the person didn't move, he slowly lifted his hand toward the tubing taped to his face, his only thought to rip the offending device out of his throat.

The figure suddenly appeared next to him; the person took his hand and pulled it away. "Don't do that, Tony."

_That voice._ Memories cascaded around him; buried him under their weight. He was locked in, strapped to a bed, starving, hurting, begging to be let go or die. His eyes scanned the hospital room desperately.

Childers looked down at him. "Gibbs isn't here, Tony; it's just the two of us. You remember me now, don't you?"

Tony reluctantly nodded. He felt like he was choking despite the painful mechanical rise and fall of his chest. There was a sense of complete and utter defenselessness.

"I have to say, Tony, I'm a bit disappointed. You almost finished the job; if Gibbs hadn't stuck his nose in I believe you would have been my greatest success yet. As it stands, I think there is much more you can do for me. There are people who will pay a great deal for what I've learned from working with you. You can be an asset in convincing them my techniques work."

The doctor ran a hand through Tony's hair and behind his ear, lightly tracing a finger around the slightly raised scar. "I'm sorry about the seizures, they're a nasty side-effect of having my little device in so long."

He pushed hard on the area sending a spear of pain into Tony's head. The green-eyed man groaned and squirmed, his hands flying up to Childers' arm, tugging to get him to stop.

Childers released the pressure and grabbed Tony's wrists, pushing his arms back down. "Stop that. You need to listen to me. I've been appointed your primary physician as well as, for want of a better word, your custodian. Homeland Security has been convinced that what was done to you is a serious threat to national safety. So every decision about you goes through me now. Ironic, isn't it?"

The heart monitor raced louder; Tony's eyes grew wide and disbelieving.

"Now, I know what you're thinking. You plan on telling your precious Gibbs all about me. I want to advise against that." He held up a small vial. "This, Tony, is a medication that, when given in the correct dosage, causes a massive heart-attack. It can be added to food or drink without the recipient noticing any change in taste or smell. The onset of the attack is immediate and the poison cannot be detected. Not even your lovely forensic scientist would be able to find it. Quite a cunning creation; a good friend of mine developed it." Childers smiled. "If you say one word to Agent Gibbs, or anyone else for that matter, I will drop this in your idol's coffee so fast he'll be dead in less than five minutes. Maybe I should give it to one of your friends just to prove it works? Who should I start with? Agent McGee? The beautiful Ziva? Your devoted Abigail?"

Tony's heart slammed into his chest. He shook his head no.

"No? So you intend to keep our secret?"

Tony blinked and nodded yes. He would agree to anything the professor proposed if it would keep the others safe.

"Good. My time working in black ops has given me access to all sorts of helpful devices like this; you'd be wise not to forget that. Now, would you like for me to remove that tube? It really isn't necessary anymore."

Again, Tony nodded slightly. If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that he couldn't trust this man.

Childers appraised him. "I will do that for you….in a few hours. I want you to take some time to think about our discussion. We'll remove it this afternoon. In the meantime, don't even consider touching it." The professor turned and added something to the IV line; Tony could feel the cold medication as it entered his veins.

Tony's hand clenched the sheets of the bed. He wanted to shout, curse, scream, anything. But all he could do was lie there and wait for what Childers decided to do next.

Because if he said or did anything wrong, he would be jeopardizing the life of not only his team, but specifically Leroy Jethro Gibbs.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Childers headed back to the waiting room to find Gibbs and the rest of the NCIS team. He punched in a number on a keypad beside the locked door of the neuropsych ward; only authorized personnel were allowed in and out. Since he and Tony had finished their chat, he would allow the others access to the agent. His supervision of the testing and examination of Tony ensured he would be able to manipulate the results so no one would find the device implanted behind his ear or realize he had been slipping DiNozzo drugs for several days. It had been enough coercion to keep Tony in a malleable state of mind. Being the attending physician had its privileges.

He was also sure that Tony's fear for the lives of his friends was enough to guarantee the man's silence.

It was time for him to begin the second round of his study. He was confident that without Gibbs' involvement Tony would have certainly shot Director Vance. To manage to control the stubborn agent's actions after only a two-week period was quite an accomplishment. His curiosity had been piqued though, to see how far he could take things. He wondered, with the right amount of pressure, just what else could he force DiNozzo to do?

The greatest feat would be to get Tony to turn on the one he loved the most. It was the ultimate challenge. He would know his techniques were foolproof when he succeeded at getting Agent DiNozzo to kill his dearly cherished Agent Gibbs.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs tapped his foot and walked to the window. He stood there several minutes before he resumed pacing. Ducky tracked his path before saying in exasperation, "Jethro, would you please sit down? You're making me a nervous wreck."

The lead agent traced his steps back to Tony's bedside where he picked up a cloth. He wiped the moisture that had once again collected around the field agent's eyes. DiNozzo stared at him then slipped back into the stupor he had languished in for most of the day. He had shown little sign of comprehending their presence at his side.

Gibbs wasn't sure why Tony's eyes were watering so much, and it wasn't like he could ask him with that damn tube still stuck in his throat. More than likely the younger man was in pain; Gibbs knew exactly how much his throat burned when he had been attached to one those machines.

There were a multitude of electrodes adhered to Tony's skull and forehead recording every blip of his brain. Under normal circumstances, Gibbs would have looked for the outline of a cartoon character or a playboy bunny on the machine; those images didn't seem likely today.

DiNozzo grunted a sound that brought both Gibbs and Ducky to attention. Tony groaned again, slowly bringing his hand up toward his throat. His unfocused green eyes begged for release. The lead agent grasped his hand. "I know, Tony. As soon as Childers gets his sorry ass back in here I'll make him take it out or I'll do it myself."

Gibbs hoped he saw a glimmer of relief in the cloudy eyes, but he wasn't sure.

The neurologist entered the room. "I wouldn't advise you to do that, Agent Gibbs. You could cause more damage than you intend."

"Where the hell have you been? We've waited here for hours without a sign of you and he's obviously in misery."

The doctor reviewed the bedside monitor. "I do believe it would be safe to remove the ventilator." He slowly untaped the tube from Tony's cheek. "Are you ready, Tony? Blow out as hard as you can."

He didn't have to be told a second time. Childers pulled the tubing swiftly out of Tony's lungs and throat; the young agent immediately started coughing and choking. Ducky poured some water, holding DiNozzo's head until he was able to sip some. "What is this?" Dr. Mallard asked, his sensitive fingertips brushing across the raised area in Tony's hair, noting how Tony flinched with his touch.

"I noticed that myself," Professor Childers explained easily. "I believe it must have occurred when Tony fell in the courtroom."

Ducky glanced at the spot, but was distracted when Tony continued coughing. Childers brought out an oxygen mask and placed it over the agent's mouth and nose. "Better?" he asked.

Tony finally was able to calm his breathing enough to nod weakly.

"Excellent." The doctor turned and busied himself adding several syringes to the IV line.

"What are you giving him?" Gibbs asked.

"I have him on several drugs, including something to prevent seizures, an anti-psychotic to reduce hallucinations, and a tranquilizer. I need to get him in a state of mind where I can start working with him."

"What exactly are you going to do?" Ducky inquired.

"We'll start with hypnosis to see if we can get him to recall any of the events that transpired during the missing two weeks. Once we start accessing his memories, we'll move on from there. I also want to continue closely monitoring his brain patterns and functions, rule out any kind of brain damage."

"Brain damage?" Gibbs repeated.

"From the seizures and medications. Any prolonged electrical stimulation of the brain could result in some permanent damage."

Gibbs turned at a soft sound from the bed. Tony's hand had roamed back up to his mouth and throat. The lead agent found some ice by the bed and managed to get DiNozzo to swallow some.

"It…hurts." Tony complained, turning his head away.

"I know, Tony. Ducky, why don't you see if you can get a nurse to bring him something for his throat?" Gibbs requested.

"Of course. I'll be right back."

Childers folded his arms. "You have a good bedside manner, Agent Gibbs."

Tony was trying to prop open his eyes but wasn't having much luck.

"How are you feeling, DiNozzo?" the older man asked.

"Fl….floaty." He tried to move his hand onto Gibbs' arm, but couldn't get it to find its way there. The appendage fell back to the bed. He tried again, eventually getting his long fingers attached to the sling holding the lead agent's injured arm.

"Didn't…..mean to. So…..sorry."

"It's ok, Tony, it was hardly even a scratch. It wasn't your fault."

"All….my….fault. Can't…do anything…..right. Gotta…gotta…..fix it."

"Don't worry about it, Tony. Just rest. I got your six."

"Yeah….but….who's got…yours? Who…who…" he drifted back to sleep in mid-sentence.

Gibbs didn't turn to look at Dr. Childers, but quietly said, "You better be able to bring him all the way back, Doc. Or somebody's going to pay for this."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Vance threw the chewed toothpick in the trash. "There's nothing we can do, Gibbs. Childers is right; this is the only way we can hope to keep Tony out of jail."

"I don't trust him, Leon. He was way too eager to become Tony's guardian without even discussing it with any of us. The way it stands he can do anything he wants with DiNozzo and we have no say so in it."

"That won't be enough to keep you out of it, Gibbs. Where Tony is concerned, I'm sure it'll take more than a court order to stop you." Vance glanced over at the bed; Tony's eyes were fluttering and his hands twitched.

When the young man eventually looked at them he was clearly confused. "Where…..what's going on?"

Gibbs kept his face smooth. "Do you remember what happened?"

Tony's eyes narrowed, then widened. "Director…I broke in your house…..Kayla and Jarod! Did I hurt them? Did I hurt Jackie?" He was pushing himself up, turning between both men, trying to determine what he had actually done. "I had my gun….I was going there to shoot you! Oh my…..are they ok?"

Gibbs glanced up at the increasing rate of the heart monitor; he pushed the agent back down on the bed. "You have to calm down, Tony. You've been having seizures; it won't help for you to get upset."

"I don't care! I have to know what I did!"

"My family is fine, Tony. They weren't even there when you arrived. I know what you did wasn't intentional," Vance explained.

"Not intentional? I tried to kill you and terrorized your family." He ran a shaky hand through his hair, his eyes fixed on Gibbs' arm. "You got shot trying to stop me, boss. If you hadn't been there who knows what I would've done." He turned his head away, breathing heavily. "Go away; both of you just go away."

Gibbs reached out to turn his agent back toward them. "Get the fuck away from me! I want to be alone!" Tony screamed.

Vance tilted his head toward the door. Gibbs followed him from the room.

"He's in a pretty bad place," Vance commented.

Gibbs set his jaw. "He'll bounce back. Tony always does." _I won't give him a choice, _the lead agent silently vowed.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs stayed with Tony for the remainder of the day despite the fact Tony refused to speak to or even acknowledge him. He wouldn't eat or drink and for the most part stayed curled on his side staring at the wall or sleeping. Gibbs tried everything in his repertoire to get Tony to respond, from cajoling to coercing to demanding to outright yelling. Nothing worked.

Tony had totally tuned everyone out.

Childers folded his arms and sighed. "I don't know what to tell you, Gibbs. He's just completely withdrawn. There isn't a physical reason for it that I can ascertain; it's an intentional decision on his part." The professor picked up Tony's hand and checked the IV line. DiNozzo didn't react. "I'll come back later and see if there's been a change."

Gibbs took a seat on the edge of the bed. "Tony, I know you're hurting, but you've gotta pull out of this. No one blames you. When you stop beating yourself up, we're going to be right here waiting on you."

DiNozzo stirred, but didn't try to look at him. "Why?" His voice was so soft Gibbs had to strain to hear it.

The older man placed a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Because Tony, I care about you all the time, in the good and the bad. I'll always be here for you no matter what happens."

Tony didn't answer, Gibbs' words unable to convince him that he was worthy of that kind of unfailing support.

_He's lying, Tony,_ one of the voices commented. _Shut up, _Tony answered, tired of the intrusive dialogue.

"Look at me, DiNozzo," Gibbs barked when he saw Tony close his eyes. "You're stuck with me for the duration. Things are tough for the moment, but none of us are going to bail on you. Not even Vance."

Tony swallowed past his thick tongue. "Sometimes it's best to cut your losses, boss. Everyone else in my life figured that out. Maybe it's time you did, too. You can't have a senior field agent on your team who's been charged with attempted murder."

"Tony…." Gibbs began again, but his friend slithered down in the bed and shut his eyes.

"I'm tired, Gibbs. Just let me go back to sleep, ok?"

The lead agent sighed. "This isn't over, Tony. I'm not going to let you drown yourself in pity."

"You know I would've done it if you hadn't stopped me. I would've shot Vance. How can I live with that?" he asked quietly. "What if I try to do something like that again? What if I go after Ziva, or McGee, or even you?"

"I won't let you," Gibbs replied resolutely.

Normally Tony would have no problem believing that Gibbs could do just exactly what he said. But unless the older man could figure out how to scoop out what was buried inside his head, he didn't know if even Gibbs would be able to fight his demons.

Especially since this time, Tony believed he was the demon that needed slaying.

_NCISNCISNCIS  
_

"How is he today?" Ducky asked as he entered the stark hospital room. Gibbs was looking out the window at the parking lot while Tony slept fitfully.

"About the same. He hasn't had any more seizures, but he spends most of the time either asleep or staring into space. I can't get him to say much of anything. He's pretty much written himself off at this point." Gibbs paused. "I've worked a long time to get him over his insecurities; this has shoved him right over the edge."

Ducky stared down at the EEG monitor and folded his arms. "I still can't get my hands on any of his medical records. Childers is having them all sent directly to him or to his lab in Virginia. He won't even let the blood tests be processed here. It's very odd."

"Do you still think the professor showed up on our doorstep just to help? That he's looking out for Tony's best interests?" Gibbs asked.

"If you had put that question to me two days ago I would have answered very differently. Now, I have to agree his actions are extremely suspicious." The doctor started examining the IV bags. "I honestly don't even know what drugs he's pumping into Anthony's veins. How could I have been so naïve?"

"Don't beat yourself up too bad, Duck, he had us all fooled. There's no way to tell what he's really up to."

"Have Ziva and McGee been able to find out anything else about him?" the ME asked.

Gibbs shook his head. "Not yet. Looks like I'm going to have to call in a few favors; see what I can find out from people with some deeper connections."

"Well, I think that's probably warranted. We need to get this man away from Tony as quickly as we can." He peered down when Tony started mumbling in his sleep. "There is one person who could enlighten us on what happened."

_Tony was strapped back in the chair in Childers' lab. He couldn't see the professor, but could hear him rummaging behind him. "Don't worry, Tony. When I'm done with this next procedure, you won't remember anything."_

_Tony pulled at the straps on his wrists. "Please let me go. You don't need me anymore."_

_Ziva and McGee stepped into view. The Israeli stroked a hand across his chin; McGee folded his arms. "You should've done what the professor said, Tony. It would make things much easier for you," Ziva commented._

_McGee grinned smugly. "It wouldn't be much different than doing what Gibbs says all the time. You'd just be letting someone else lead you around by the nose."_

_Gibbs moved in front of him. "He doesn't listen to me anyway. He's not much use to me now that he isn't qualified to be an agent anymore."_

_Childers finally approached him. "You won't have to continue to hide his inadequacies, Agent Gibbs. I'll take care of that for you." He lifted the small drill in his hand and raced it loudly, holding it towards Tony's temple._

_"Stop him! One of you stop him!" When no one moved to help, Tony screamed….._

"DiNozzo! Wake up!" When he finally peeled his eyes apart Gibbs and Ducky were inches from his face. Gibbs grabbed the control and raised the bed up so Tony was no longer lying flat.

"What were you dreaming about, Tony? Would you like to talk about it?" Dr. Mallard asked gently.

Tony looked back and forth between the two men, trying to get his bearings. "No, no Ducky I…..I don't want to talk about it."

Gibbs sat on the edge of the bed and tried to take a casual tone. "Tony, we need you to help us out here. If you remember anything about those two weeks you were gone, you need to tell us. It's the only way we're going to be able to get you out of this mess. Right now we have nothing."

Tony shifted nervously. "I told you, I don't remember anything." _Please don't make me lie to you again, boss. _The heart monitor and EEG announced his increasing anxiety to the other men in the room.

Gibbs looked over at Ducky to see if he should continue pressing. The doctor tilted his head in approval. "You don't recall anything? As an investigator, you know the slightest detail could mean everything. A voice, a description of the room where you were held, anything at all."

"I can't. I can't tell you anything. Don't ask me again." His voice was small and quiet, but filled with resolve.

Gibbs met him dead in the eye. "Is someone threatening you, Tony?"

The question took Tony off guard. "No, boss. No one's threatening me." He looked down and to the right, just like Ziva said he would when he was lying.

Gibbs had interrogated enough people to know when the truth was being evaded. He sighed.

"I can't help you until you're honest with me, Tony. I know you wouldn't lie unless you felt you had no choice." He placed his hand on Tony's arm. "You do have a choice."

_No, I don't,_ Tony thought.

They were interrupted by Childers entering the room. "What are you two doing?" the professor asked the two men.

"We're just visiting with Anthony. Is there something wrong with that?" Dr. Mallard questioned.

Childers could see by the look on Tony's face that he had disrupted more than a friendly chat.

"You two need to leave and let Agent DiNozzo rest. We have several more tests scheduled for tomorrow and I don't want to see him exhausted."

Ducky spoke up. "About those tests. When will I be able to see the results? As Tony's personl physician I should have access to all his medical records, but I was surprised to find you've blocked that privilege."

"Once Tony is no longer in my care you will have complete access again, Dr. Mallard. But for now, his medical records are part of my investigation, so I'm sorry, they are not open to anyone without proper clearance. Now I must ask you both to leave again."

Gibbs pushed himself into Childers' space. "And if we don't?"

The older man didn't budge, but instead pushed back against Gibbs. "Then I guess I'll have to call security and have you removed."

"Maybe you should do that. Let's see if they can get me to leave."

"Don't Gibbs," Tony said, not wanting to get the lead agent in trouble for him. "It's alright. I'm just going to sleep anyway. I'm fine."

Ducky stepped forward and took Gibbs by his free arm. "Come on, Jethro. We have work to do anyway. We'll come back tomorrow."

Gibbs looked back at Tony. His dark eyes were half-closed and his skin had turned pea-green. A fight in his hospital room would probably not be the best way to end his night.

He hated to leave DiNozzo alone with Childers. His distrust of the man grew with every passing second. He walked over to Tony and squeezed his hand. "I'll be back first thing in the morning. Call me if you need anything." He raised his eyebrows. _"Anything."_

Tony gave him a small, wan smile. "Ok, boss. Thanks."

Gibbs abruptly shook his head. "I'm not leaving. Let Childers call security."

"Boss," Tony lay his hand on Gibbs' arm. "I've already spent the night in jail; you don't need tossed in there, too. Besides, I can barely keep my eyes open. There's no reason to go through all this just to watch me sleep. Go on home."

"I don't like it, Tony. But I'll go if you think it will make it easier."

With a parting glare that Childers accepted with a cold smile, Ducky and Gibbs left the room.

Childers walked over to Tony and narrowed his eyes accusingly.

"I didn't tell him anything," DiNozzo explained quickly.

The doctor pursed his lips. "I don't know, Tony. Gibbs is becoming more of a liability every day. Something's going to have to be done."

The cold chill Tony felt reminded him he was in the presence of pure evil. "Let me take care of Gibbs. I'll figure out a way to keep him off your back."

"We'll see, Tony. We'll see."

Childers walked into the hall and took out his cell phone. "Andrew, I need you to get the facility ready; it looks like I'm going to have to bring DiNozzo back down there. Things are getting too close for comfort here. Expect us within the next day or two." He snapped the phone shut and moved purposefully down the hall.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony didn't speak to the nurse who came in to lower his bed, adjust his medication, and turn out the light. He knew that Gibbs would never back off now that he had an idea Childers was somehow involved.

_Gibbs shouldn't have to deal with this, _the ever-present voice whispered.

There was only one way he could think of to put a stop to everything. Feeling some peace of mind that he was doing the right thing, Tony let himself drift into sleep assured that by tomorrow night there would be nothing for any of them to worry about anymore.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: I hope this chapter isn't too long. I keep thinking of little things to add to round out the plot and all of the sudden it's out of control. My apologies.**

**I want to continue thanking everyone who has given me so much support during this story. I enjoy all the alerts, comments, and private messages. Just a reminder, the entire story is about 16 chapters, so there is an end in sight (just not too soon!)**

**Thanks so much!**

**TLH**

DiNozzo watched the sun fading from the window. He was feeling more in control of his body than he had in days; the headache was mostly gone, it had been a few hours since his last dose of drugs so he was just groggy instead of semi-comatose, he was only hearing voices occasionally, they had even removed the heart monitor and EEG leads. That left the IV line as the only thing keeping him in the bed.

Gibbs had stopped off that morning and brought him some dark blue pajamas so he'd also been able to ditch the god-awful hospital gown.

Most of the time since he'd landed in the hospital had been spent undergoing more tests than he even knew existed. He'd had his memory, cognitive ability, vision, hearing, speech, motor function, sleep patterns, and a dozen other things he didn't care about assessed. In between the wheelchair rides to various parts of the hospital, he'd been sedated into sleep, leaving a lot of the days a fuzzy blur. Gibbs or Ducky had stayed most of the time, and he'd rarely been left alone if they could help it. Even though they didn't say anything, he could see the fear in both their eyes at his depressed and anxious behavior. Childers had never been far away, smiling his sickly sweet grin, reminding Tony at every moment that he had forfeited his life to the bastard.

Yet somehow during the haze of activity, he had managed to come up with a plan.

He refused to spend the rest of his life under Childers' thumb. The man thought he had him trapped by threatening Gibbs and his friends, and for the most part he was right. Tony couldn't tell Gibbs what was really going on since he was certain Childers would go through with his threat. So Tony had to get away from the professor in another way.

What he had worked out to do was his only option; it would solve more than one problem.

_You are worthless, DiNozzo. You don't deserve to live, _the voices whispered. For once, he totally agreed with them.

He pulled the IV line out of his arm and leaned back in the bed, waiting for some more of the medication to filter from his system. He wanted to be as alert as possible. They had warned him that without the medicine he might start having seizures again, but as long as he was quick with what he needed to do it shouldn't be an issue.

He recalled how McGee, Ziva, Palmer, and Abby had visited him earlier in the day; it had been an opportunity to straighten out some things.

"Listen, guys, I'm not exactly sure how long they're going to keep me locked up in here so do you think you could do a few things for me?"

They had exchanged worried glances, surprised Tony had so blatantly brought up the topic of being detained. Abby fielded his initial question. "Of course, Tony, whatever you need."

For a few seconds he looked away from her, ashamed of what he was going to do. "You know, just some stuff around the apartment, water the plants, clean out the fridge, that kind of stuff."

Ziva sat down on the edge of the bed and rubbed his arm. "You will be home soon, Tony."

DiNozzo smiled at her, "Sure I will, Ziva. Do you think you'd mind getting the oil changed in my car? The extra keys are in the kitchen drawer. And if you want just keep driving it until I get out of here."

"You are going to let me drive your car? I thought you said you would flip in your grave first."

"It's roll over in my grave, and your driving has gotten….better," he lied.

"No, it hasn't, but I appreciate that you trust me to take care of it."

Tony looked over at Palmer. "Hey, Jimmy, you been watching any of my DVD's?"

"Of course not, Tony. I haven't touched even one," Jimmy replied quickly.

"Well, since I'm not watching them, you ought to go over and pick out a few. I'd rather somebody use them."

"Are you sure, Tony? You don't mind?"

"Nah, it's ok. Abs, you should get some CD's. Hell, you can even use the stereo if you want."

Abby jumped up from the chair where she'd been sitting. "Are you serious? I mean really, really serious? Your stereo is awesome, Tony. I can't even imagine what Cult of Killers would sound like on your system."

"Then I guess you should find out. I can't use it in here."

Abby frowned. "Tony, you're doing a lot better. You won't be in here forever."

"I know, it's just kind of boring. I wish they'd let me have my laptop. Which reminds me, McFixIt, you think you could check out the keyboard? The letter "A" keeps sticking, and you can't type much without an "A"."

"Your new laptop? I'm surprised you're already having a problem with it."

"Well, I guess I've been posting too many personal ads. Just take care of it, ok? And hang on to it until I come home."

"Alright, Tony, if that's what you want."

"Oh, and I have a bottle of wine that's going to go bad, think one of you guys could give that to Ducky?"

"Sure," Ziva answered. "Tony, why are you giving away all of your things?" She was frowning. His behavior was sending off all sorts of red flags.

"It's just….I don't know how long I'm going to be stuck here and I…..I want to know my stuff is taken care of! Is that so wrong? I mean it's not like any of you had a meltdown, tried to kill the Director, shot the boss, and got locked in the psycho ward!"

"Alright, Tony, we'll take care of it, don't get upset," McGee said.

"I'm not upset!" he shouted. A nurse came in the room.

"Is there a problem?" She immediately started adding medications into the line. Tony watched her with frustration.

"I'm fine, I don't need you to knock me out again," he complained. "You guys should go; I'm not going to be able to do more than drool in about ten minutes anyway."

"Tony…" McGee began.

"Just go!" He rolled over in the bed and curled up.

"It's ok, Tony," Palmer said reassuringly, "We'll come back tomorrow." They moved toward the door.

"Hey," Tony called after them, turning over. "I didn't mean to yell. I…." He saw them standing there, his adopted family, and decided to memorize every feature. Abby's crazy clothes, Ziva's gorgeous curly hair, Palmer's perfectly nerdy glasses, McGee's new pencil-thin look. He would miss them.

"Bye guys," he said and gave them a low-watt but endearing smile.

Abby ran back over and kissed him on the forehead. "Love you, Tony."

"Love you, too, Abs."

The medication was already making him loopy when he pulled the tiny drawer beside his bed open and took out an envelope addressed to Gibbs in his cramped, tiny handwriting. The letter had been written earlier in the day, and he hoped it explained to Gibbs what he had decided to do and why. He also tried to express in it everything Gibbs had meant to him over the years. It wasn't much, but it was the best he could do. He safely tucked the letter back inside, before he slid back down in the sheets and stopped fighting the need to sleep.

Tony vaguely recalled Gibbs coming in during his drug-induced nap. He dimly remembered the older man straightening his blanket and pillow, pushing his hair back, even holding his hand for awhile, his face creased with worry. There had been a phone call before Gibbs patted his shoulder and said he had to go to MTAC, but Ducky would be over later. Fortunately, the ME had yet to arrive.

So for now he was alone, watching the last light of the day disappear through the window.

It was time for Tony to go, too.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Escaping from the locked hospital ward was much easier than it should have been. If Tony had been on duty instead of a psychotic terrorist enemy combatant threat to national security, he would have pointed out just how poor their safety measures were. As it was, he doubted they would be interested in a patient's analysis of their hospital's security.

He had evaluated the area and memorized the layout on his way in and out for tests. He even knew the code for the door, since a nurse had left him sitting in the hallway for ten minutes while she talked to a coworker. Watching staff leave, it hadn't taken much time to figure out where their fingers were landing on the keypad.

Standing by the bed, adrenaline surged through him, helping push aside the remnants of the medication he had been given. He was still weak and shakier than he would've liked, and it took a few minutes for him to feel steady enough to walk. But he couldn't let that stop him. There might not be another chance for him to get out of here. He'd played football with enough injuries to help him withstand a slight headache and jello-y knees.

_Everyone will be better off, Tony. There's no other way. _Funny how the voice in his head sounded just like him.

Sliding out his door into the darkened main area, he quickly went to a laundry bin and found a pair of scrubs which he pulled on over his own pajamas. Making sure the nurse's desk was empty, he grabbed a chart and a loose stethoscope that he draped around his neck. Lowering his head over the chart as if lost in thought, he walked purposefully toward the locked doors. The key was acting as if he really was a doctor making rounds; don't walk too slow or too fast, just casually move like he had somewhere to be.

A pretty nurse walked past and he smiled at her; she grinned back appreciatively. At the door, he confidently punched in the numbers, took a small breath in the seconds it took for the door to pop open, and strolled through without pausing.

The hospital was quiet as he moved down the corridors, finding his way to the front exit. Few people paid any attention to him; if they did he merely gave them a nod and a disarming grin. In less than five minutes from the time he slid from his room, Tony DiNozzo walked out into the night and he was gone.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs noticed the heightened security as he sipped coffee and walked down the hospital corridors toward Tony's room. Security guards appeared to be on high alert, watching for something. He had been splitting his time between the hospital and the office, trying to be with Tony but at the same time figure out exactly what had gotten DiNozzo into this situation.

Someone was responsible for what was happening to Tony, and he was determined to find out who and bring them to justice. _His justice. _No one did this to a member of his team, especially Tony, and got away with it. It might take him the rest of his life, but he wouldn't let the need for vengeance go. He was convinced Childers knew more about what was happening than he had let on, but they had yet to establish just how deep his involvement went.

This afternoon Tony had been deeply asleep, once again pulled under by the drugs Childers kept shooting into his veins. Gibbs took the few hours as a chance to check in with the team and see if anything new had come up regarding the agent's whereabouts during his "vacation." Despite looking at every angle they could think of, they still had nothing.

Tony was feeling better; the headaches and hallucinations seemed to be under control, but he continued to be uncharacteristically quiet. He was brooding, even depressed. Ziva had reported to him that Tony had been much more talkative and upbeat during their last visit, which was a good sign that he was rallying. But she also mentioned that his behavior had been odd, and she was very worried about his state of mind. Considering how all the other victims had ended up, he felt her concern was warranted.

Gibbs sensed the younger man blamed himself for everything, which was typical DiNozzo style. If Tony hadn't been on the locked hospital floor, Gibbs would have probably been in constant fear that his friend was on the verge of doing something very, very stupid. He was actually grateful for the 24 hour supervision the psychiatric ward provided. It should at least keep Tony safe from himself.

Another guard passed by, giving him an appraising glance; Gibbs' gut reared up and growled.

"Shit," he said, tossing his coffee cup in a trash can and jogging through the hallway. He held his injured arm close to his body to prevent it from jarring. "What the hell have you done, DiNozzo?"

_NCISNCISNCIS _

Childers looked up nervously at Gibbs' approach. He was standing in Tony's room with several other doctors and security guards.

"Where the hell is he?" Gibbs asked.

The doctor sighed. "Gone. He managed to slip past security about an hour ago."

"How did you let him get out of here? This is a maximum security floor! And why the hell didn't you call me?"

"We were canvassing the hospital. I hoped that maybe he was still inside."

Gibbs walked over beside the rumpled bed; a letter on the side table caught his eye. It was addressed to him in Tony's familiar, slanted writing. The lead agent picked it up and placed it in his jacket pocket.

A security officer rushed in. "We found something."

He led them to a room filled with monitors; a screen showed DiNozzo dressed in olive green scrubs walking casually through the hospital. The video ended when he strolled out the front door.

"Ah, Tony," Gibbs commented. It didn't benefit him to forget that his senior field agent could do pretty much whatever he wanted to when he set his mind to it.

"We need to find him quickly, Agent Gibbs. He's in more danger now than at any point since all this began."

"What makes you say that?"

"Your agent is very adept at hiding his real emotions, but let me assure you he is extremely depressed right now. He sees himself as a failure for not being able to resist what he has done, and if I'm correct he fears that he won't be able to control himself in the future. He would rather be dead than take a chance on hurting someone else."

Gibbs moved into the other man's personal space. "Are you telling me he left here so he could go kill himself?"

"That's exactly what I'm telling you."

It took the ex-marine only a few seconds to decide what to do. "Come on," he told the doctor reluctantly. "You're with me." Gibbs was already heading out of the hospital.

"Where are we going?" Childers asked, running to catch up.

"To find DiNozzo." The agent flipped open his phone and dialed McGee.

"Yeah, boss?"

"Where are you, Tim?"

"Um, I'm back at the office. Ziva and I wanted to keep looking through Tony's records."

"I need you to put out a BOLO on DiNozzo."

"What? A BOLO? Isn't he still in the hospital?" McGee asked. Ziva walked over to stand by his desk.

"_What is going on?" _she whispered.

"_I don't know," _he whispered back.

"Tony's gone AWOL. You and Ziva get over to his apartment and see if he's there."

Tim stood and reached for his weapon. "How did he get out? I thought he was on a lock-down floor."

"Well, I guess he's fricking Harry Houdini! Does it really matter, McGee? Just get the hell over to his apartment now!"

"On it, boss," he said to dead air since Gibbs had already hung up.

"Tony is gone?" Ziva asked as she followed Tim to the elevator.

"I guess so."

Ziva wrinkled her forehead, rushing onto the elevator. "He gave us all his things, McGee. Do you think he has been planning to hurt himself?"

McGee frowned. "You think all that stuff was Tony….saying goodbye? He wanted me to have his new laptop?"

"Can you think of any other reason he would let me drive his car?"

McGee's lips thinned thoughtfully. "No, Ziva, I can't. But I also can't believe Tony would, you know, commit suicide. If he does, Gibbs will kill him."

Ziva made a face at his comment.

"Ok, that was stupid. But, you know what I mean."

The Israeli met his eyes. "Actually, Tim, I know exactly what you mean. I just hope that Tony gives Gibbs a chance to kill him."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs and Childers parked the car in front of the NCIS agent's neat and tidy home. Gibbs slid his arm back into the sling; it hurt to drive but it was a necessity.

"You think he came here?" the doctor asked. "Instead of his own place?"

The silver-haired man didn't answer right away. "Maybe. He feels safe here," Gibbs eventually replied.

Childers reached for the door handle. "Then let's go."

"No," Gibbs said quietly and put his hand on the other man's arm. "You wait here."

"Do I need to remind you that Tony is now in my custody?"

"This is between me and DiNozzo. I'll let you know when I need your help."

"You're not in charge here, Agent Gibbs. You can't tell me what to do."

Gibbs erupted. "How long have you known Tony? A week? Well, I've been taking care of him for the last ten years, and he's my responsibility! I intend to go in there to him alone! Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way, Childers." The former gunnery sergeant poked the man hard in the chest. "You decide!"

"Alright Gibbs, you can back down. I'll wait. But remember, he's more than likely a breath away from doing something none of us want. If you push too hard…."

"I know," the lead agent said, slamming the car door behind him. He knew exactly what it felt like to sit with a gun in his hand and debate escaping from it all. He knew how tempting it could be to take that next step and he would do whatever he had to in order to keep Tony from falling into that abyss.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The house was quiet; the door to the basement had been left ajar. No light shined out, but Gibbs had traveled the wooden stairs so many times he didn't need light to guide him down. He took the steps carefully nevertheless, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He stopped at the third step from the bottom and sat down, not yet speaking to the shadowy figure seated on the stool in the corner.

He kept his silence, allowing Tony to be the first one to speak.

"What are you doing here, boss?"

"Last time I checked, I lived here. That was quite a stunt you pulled back at the hospital."

Tony shifted position uncomfortably. "I'm not playing games."

"I know you're not, Tony. What you're thinking about doing isn't the answer, though." Gibbs saw him sigh, the gun he was holding gripped loosely in his hand.

"I see you found my spare gun. Thought I hid it better than that."

"I know most of your secrets, boss."

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow at that statement.

Tony laughed nervously. "Well, maybe not all your secrets."

"You really going through with this, DiNozzo?" He wasn't much of a negotiator. Don't waste time and get right to the point.

Tony fiddled with the weapon. "I can't live like this. Everything is so screwed up. What do I have left? It's not like I can go back to work after I tried to shoot the Director. Maybe I could go back to the wife and kids? Oh, wait, I don't have those either."

"You have family, Tony. You have people who care about you. What's it going to take for you to figure that out?"

"I have people who tolerate and put up with me. I know what an aggravation I can be. Sometimes I get on my own damn nerves."

Gibbs smiled. Only Tony could contemplate suicide and still make jokes. "You never have given yourself enough credit."

Tony shook his head. "Maybe you can't see what everybody else does. I'm weak, boss. If I'd been stronger, none of this would've happened."

"You're one of the strongest people I know, Tony. You've taken more knocks than anybody and you keep getting back up. Don't give in now."

"Did you read my letter?" Tony asked quietly.

"No, I didn't." Gibbs patted his pocket. "I knew it wasn't time for that yet."

"You should've. I'm tired, boss. I'm tired of fighting, pretending none of it hurts. It does hurt. It hurts like hell. It hurt when my dad dumped me, when you left for Mexico, when the whole Jeanne thing blew up. Watching Kate, Paula, and Jenny all die." His voice was scratchy and broken. "Then of course there was the Ziva thing. That was a cluster-fuck. And now all this." Tony's voice cracked around a choked sob. "Here I am hiding in your basement crying like a damn baby." He struggled to get himself back in check. "Bet Stan Burley never cried on you."

"I wouldn't trade ten Stan Burleys for one of you, DiNozzo." Gibbs stood and walked closer to him. "I've cried a few times myself, Tony."

Tony looked up with red-rimmed eyes. "Don't lie to me, boss." He immediately regretted the statement when he thought about Shannon and Kelly. Maybe Gibbs did understand the despondency he felt.

"I would never lie to you, especially not at a time like this."

"It doesn't matter. I'm still finished. It isn't worth fighting anymore." He turned the gun toward himself and stared down the barrel. "What if I'd actually shot Vance? Or if his kids had been in my way? Would I have taken them out, too? I can't trust my own self."

Gibbs knelt next to him and placed a hand on his knee. "Then trust me. I have your six." The lead agent wasn't quite begging, but he was coming close.

DiNozzo put the gun under his chin, resting the barrel against his skin. "Please, boss, just go away and let me do this. Let me find some peace." He was crying harder now. Once the dam broke, it was impossible to force all the emotion back down. His hand shook a little, making Gibbs nervous. The safety on the weapon was off; Tony's finger rested on the trigger.

"I've been right where you are, Tony. I've held a gun in my hand and wondered if putting a bullet in my brain would take away all my pain. But I didn't do it, and I'm glad; because if I had I would've never been here to help you. You are not worthless, Tony, and you are irreplaceable to me." He paused to let his words sink in.

"I just don't know what else to do," Tony said softly, readjusting his grip on the gun, not even trying to hide the torment behind his glistening green eyes.

"I know, Tony. But I also know if you really thought this was the way out you wouldn't have come here; you'd never off yourself in my house; in my basement." He leveled his blue eyes at Tony and placed all his cards on the table. "You love me too much for that." He held his hand out. "Give me the gun."

DiNozzo closed his eyes and wavered a bit. Why did Gibbs have to cut so close to the bone? Gibbs was the only person he could never say no to, never refuse, and he had never failed to do what the lead agent asked of him. It was no secret that Tony loved Gibbs like a father.

"Come on, Tony. If you don't want to stick around for yourself, do it for me." During a brief flash Tony could see his body sprawled on the concrete floor, Gibbs standing over top of it. The older man would spend the rest of his life blaming himself, and no matter how much Tony wanted to take the easy way out, he couldn't do that to Gibbs. Quickly, before he had time for second thoughts, he thrust the gun into Gibbs' waiting hand.

"Atta boy." He heard Gibbs place the gun on the counter and then felt a firm arm on his shoulder. The next thing he knew his face was buried in the former gunnery sergeant's chest, his sobs echoing off the basement walls. Tony cried for all the hidden pain he had experienced but never really allowed himself to feel; in the dark quiet of Gibbs' sanctuary it seemed like an ok thing to do. With Gibbs' strong hand patting his back and his nose pressed into the soft shirt that smelled of sawdust and soap, he was finally able to release the tight grip he held on his carefully controlled emotions. The lead agent didn't say anything; just let him get it all out until there was nothing left inside.

"You ok?" Gibbs asked when Tony had been quiet for a few minutes. With a final pat on the back he loosened his arms. The younger man lifted his head off of Gibbs' wet shirt. Gibbs searched around on the counter and found a dirty, grease-stained cloth that he handed over to the senior field agent.

"No. I feel like a damn Lifetime movie of the week," Tony said, wiping his flushed face that had turned red from tears and embarrassment. "Sorry."

Gibbs smiled. "I've lost it on Mike Franks more times than I'd like to admit. It happens. You hungry?" He wanted to refocus Tony onto something normal.

"Hungry? Um, I don't know. Kinda?" Tony was confused by the complete change in topic.

"Good. Come on upstairs." Gibbs left the gun lying on the counter. Tony looked at it, wondering why the lead agent hadn't hidden it somewhere. Instead, he forced Tony to walk away from it on his own, another example of the Zen wisdom of Gibbs.

DiNozzo sighed and followed his mentor into the warm light of the kitchen.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Eat, Tony. I haven't seen you put anything in your stomach in days."

Tony dunked the edge of the grilled cheese into the bowl of tomato soup before taking a bite, chewing slowly. He rested his head on his hand, completely spent. Gibbs' phone rang. "Yeah, he's here. Everything's ok. You guys go home and go to bed."

"McGee?"

"He's with Ziva. They were worried."

Gibbs watched the guilt wash back over the younger man. "They care about you, Tony. It's ok. Now eat." The lead agent placed a glass of milk next to him.

"Milk?"

"It's good for you." Tony shook his head, knowing it was best not to argue with Gibbs' in his overprotective parent mode. He supposed his recent antics had earned it. He thought about the gun downstairs and how close he had come to using it.

After several minutes he finally finished the sandwich. "What now?" Tony asked while Gibbs cleaned up the dishes.

"Now you're going upstairs to bed before you keel over."

Tony rubbed his head but didn't move. "This doesn't solve anything, you know. I can't just hide out here; Childers will come looking for me. I guess I'm like an escaped convict or something."

"Let me deal with Childers. You. Bed."

Reluctantly Tony got up and did what Gibbs' said. Sometimes it was just easier to let him take over and stop getting in the way.

The familiarity of the spare bedroom was oddly comforting. He found some old sweats and a t-shirt he'd left there on one of his previous stays and changed before settling between the cool sheets. The view from the bed felt like coming home. He wondered what it would have been like to have grown up here, for this to have been his childhood bedroom instead of the series of meaningless rooms he had grown up in. Living in this house would have been better than life in any mansion.

He noticed the tingle of a headache starting again, but tried to push it back through force of will. There was no clear path for him to take now, no way out he could see that didn't end tragically for someone—more than likely him. What exactly did Childers want anyway? Why couldn't the man just leave him alone?

The door opened and Gibbs walked in, flopping down in the chair. Tony rolled over on his side. "You don't have to watch me, you know. I'm not going to sneak down in the middle of the night and put a bullet in my brain."

Gibbs let the caustic remark slide off him. "Humor me, DiNozzo."

Tony smiled into the dark. "Anything you say, boss."

As the ex-marine sat sentry over him, he knew Gibbs had been right. He had come here on purpose. Just thirty minutes earlier he was staring at the end of a gun, and now he was ready to drift off to sleep. It was why he always came back here; why he had followed Gibbs to DC from Baltimore in the first place. Whenever he was tired, or hurt, or confused, there was always the open door promising the comfort of sitting on the steps in the basement, or falling asleep on the couch, or curling up in this bed. After a lifetime of feeling rejected, it was the one place in the world he actually felt wanted. It was a feeling that he couldn't put a price on.

There was no explanation why Gibbs was the one who ended up wanting him; mystics would have to explain that one. But he was grateful fate had intervened, or he would have probably eaten his gun a long time ago.

The lead agent waited until he could hear Tony breathing softly before he quietly made his way out of the house and back to the car where Childers was waiting. Gibbs tapped on the window then climbed back into the driver's seat. "I guess you've proven you're a patient man."

The doctor tried to hide his irritation at being left so long. "What happened?"

"He ate something and went to bed." The rest of it wasn't any of this stranger's business.

Childers didn't press him. "We have to discuss what to do next. I want to take Tony to my clinic; I'll be able to work with him better there."

"When do we leave?" Gibbs asked.

"We? What makes you think you're going?"

"Tony doesn't go anywhere without me. Get used to it." The silver-haired man was tired, and not in the mood for a debate.

"What if I refuse? What would you do then?"

"I'd make sure you never saw Tony again," Gibbs replied.

"It'd be that simple? You'd give up your whole life for him?"

"Yep."

"You don't waste time with bullshit, Gibbs. Alright, you can come. We'll leave day after tomorrow; I think Tony might handle it better if he has a chance to say goodbye to his friends."

"So where is this clinic?" Gibbs asked.

"The mountains of Virginia. It's actually quite a beautiful place, very secluded and remote. Think of it as a vacation."

Gibbs gave the doctor an icy glare. "I don't take vacations. You can sleep on the couch." He slammed the car door and walked back inside, wondering if he'd just made a deal with the devil himself.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony opened his eyes wishing for a day he could wake without feeling like shit. The headache was back with close to the same intensity as before. After a few minutes staring at the ceiling he rolled out of bed and headed toward the kitchen, deciding he needed coffee and a handful of ibuprofen. Or maybe the gun in the basement wasn't such a bad idea after all.

Still half-asleep and scratching his belly, Tony stopped abruptly at the sight of the man sitting at the table. "What the hell are you doing here?"

Childers barely reacted to the question. "Did you think I was going to go away?"

"I was hoping," Tony replied bitterly.

"Play nice with the guest, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, pouring his senior field agent a cup of coffee.

Tony took the cup, but winced as a jolt of pain stabbed behind his eyes.

"Headache?" Gibbs looked concerned.

"No." He put a hand on the back of a chair. "Maybe." The pounding continued as the two men stared at him. He should have stayed in bed.

DiNozzo eased himself into the chair. "Ok, so I have another damn headache!" He rubbed the nape of his neck, trying to erase the familiar building pressure.

Childers retrieved a small cup filled with pills from the counter and held it out to Tony. "Take these," he said.

Tony met the man's gaze with disdain. "No. You aren't turning me back into a zombie."

The doctor lowered his voice. "Without this medication the headache will continue to get worse and you'll end up having more seizures. You were lucky there wasn't any brain damage during the last episode. Is that a chance you want to take?"

DiNozzo stared over at Gibbs who was leaning against the counter. "What are they?" Gibbs asked.

"It's the same medication he was taking in the hospital. Tony, I insist you take them and I don't expect you to argue with me."

Tony hesitated for a moment before surprising Gibbs by grabbing the cup and angrily slamming the pills back, washing them down with coffee.

"Happy?" the field agent asked.

"Very. Now let's talk about tomorrow," Childers' voice was icy, cold.

"What about tomorrow?" Tony's head turned back and forth between the two men.

Gibbs broke the news. "Professor Childers wants us to go to his clinic in Virginia for a while. He thinks he'll be able to help you better there."

Tony gave the doctor a deadly glare. "I don't want to go anywhere with you."

Childers shrugged. "You really don't have a choice. Consider it an upgrade from the federal penitentiary that you could be going to if you refuse to cooperate with me. Take your pick."

Standing, Tony breathed in heavily. "You're a fucking bastard."

Gibbs stepped between them. "Let it go, Tony. Like he said, we don't have a choice. I don't want to start spending my weekends visiting you in the federal pen."

Tony picked up on the "we." "You don't have to go with me, boss. I can handle this." He felt bad enough watching Gibbs bustle around the kitchen with the sling on his arm. This was above and beyond the call of duty.

The lead agent observed the pale skin and dark shadowed eyes underneath the bravado. "I know you can, Tony. But you don't have to." Tony's green eyes softened and his breathing eased; a small, selfish part of him was grateful to know that, even now, the lead agent refused to let him deal with this alone.

Gibbs grabbed his jacket. "I have to go out for a while. I'll drop you off at your hotel, Professor. DiNozzo, you stay put, Abby's coming over to hang out with you. I won't be gone long." He headed for the front door.

Tony moved to leave the room, but Childers stepped in front of him. "That suicide attempt? Don't try it again; I promise the second I find your cold, dead body I'll make sure Gibbs joins you. The two of you can discuss your stupidity in eternity together."

The NCIS agent clenched his fists threateningly. "It's not like the voices you stuck in my head weren't providing their own encouragement," Tony pointed out.

"Well, I'm sure you're right about that. Regardless, you need to ignore them because I've decided you're worth more to me alive. And yes, Gibbs is going with us to Virginia. I need to keep him nearby in case you decide to step out of line." The doctor placed his face close to DiNozzo's. "I own you, Tony. Don't forget that. Do you need me to prove it to you?"

Tony licked his lips and gave the sought for answer. "No. I don't need any proof."

Childers tilted his head to the side. "I'm not so sure," he said, and walked away.

The rough fabric of the orange jumpsuit he had been wearing several days ago jumped into Tony's memory. Since it appeared he was going to have to murder this man in order to protect Gibbs, he hoped his sensitive skin could get used to the scratchy low-grade material. He very well might be wearing it for life.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The NCIS agent sat on the bench in the cool morning air watching children playing in the park. "It's not polite to sneak up on people, Kort," he said, sipping from the Styrofoam cup. The tall, bald man took the seat beside him.

"Funny, I hear you do it all the time. Why did you call me, Gibbs?"

The ex-marine nodded at the extra cup waiting for Kort on the bench. "I need a favor."

Kort laughed, picked up the coffee, took a sip and grimaced. "You need another favor from me? This is becoming a habit. Why would I want to help you out again?"

"Same as before. You do something for me, I do something for you. Tit-for-tat."

"It must be pretty important for you to bargain with me, Gibbs. I know I'm not one of your favorite people. What is it you want?"

"Information." Gibbs glanced to the side. "I need to know about a black op that Tony might have gotten mixed up in."

"DiNozzo? What kind of trouble has he gotten himself into this time? If you'd listen to me you might figure out the guy isn't worth half the effort you spend on him."

"He's my friend, Kort. Since you don't have any, it's got to be a hard concept to understand."

The CIA agent smiled. "I thought you were my friend, Gibbs."

The silver-haired man shook his head then briefly explained the situation. Kort looked up at the sky. "It sounds like something the agency could be involved with. Why they would've targeted DiNozzo, I have no idea. I can't believe your pup actually shot you." He glanced at the injured arm still held by the sling. "What exactly do you want me to find out?"

"Who's running this operation and where I can find him."

Kort snorted. "Sounds to me like you want revenge. That never turns out well, Gibbs."

"Let's just say I have a few questions for the person responsible for this. I'd like for you to check out Professor Childers as well; I don't trust the guy."

"And you trust me?" Kort asked innocently.

"Hell no, I don't trust you. But I know you're not dumb enough to turn down a chance to have me owe you one. So you'll do this."

Kort thought for several minutes. "I'll be honest, Gibbs. I like you but I can't stand DiNozzo. Helping him is the last thing I want to spend my time doing. Yet your offer is one I can't refuse. I'll get back in touch in a few days."

The CIA operative stood and threw his coffee cup in the trash can. He laughed. "I would almost pay to see DiNozzo in a prison jumpsuit instead of one of his designer labels." Kort shook his head. "Tell him I said hi."

Gibbs threw his own cup in the trash and stuffed his hand in his jacket pocket. Kort might be an asshole, but owing him was worth it if he was able to get his hands on whoever was behind this mess and was doing everything possible to screw up Tony's life. Especially if that person turned out to be Professor Robert Childers.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Boss!" McGee stood from behind his desk. Ziva looked up from her own. "What are you doing here today? How's Tony? Is he still at your place?"

"Settle down, McGee, you're starting to sound like Abby," Gibbs commented, picking up a few messages from the pile on his desk.

"We have been waiting to hear from you. What is happening with Tony?" Ziva added.

"He's ok, staying at my house. Childers wants to take him to his clinic in Virginia, see if he can get him to remember anything about what happened. I'm going with him."

"How long will you be gone?" Ziva asked.

"I don't know yet. I've got to talk to the Director. You two see what you can find out about this clinic we're going to."

"On it, boss," McGee replied, rounding his desk to his computer. He winced a little when he bumped his side.

Gibbs stopped. "How's that wound, Tim?"

McGee glanced up cautiously. "Fine, boss. Just a little sore, but much better."

"Good. Don't push it too hard."

"I….I won't, boss. Uh, thanks," Tim answered as Gibbs left for Vance's office. He looked fearfully at Ziva.

"Why is he being so nice? Tony's right, Gibbs' nice is downright creepy."

Ziva folded her arms. "I would guess he is more worried about Tony than he cares to admit."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"You have no idea how long this will take?" Vance asked.

"Nope."

"I can't approve for you two to be gone indefinitely, Gibbs. We do still have an office to run here."

"I know, Leon. Give me two weeks. If we don't get anywhere in that amount of time, we'll reevaluate," Gibbs suggested.

"What if Childers won't release him after two weeks, Gibbs? What if this guy wants to keep him, hell with Tony listed as an enemy combatant he could keep him forever if he wants. Have you thought about that?" Vance challenged.

"Yes, Leon, I have thought about that. That's why you and the team need to find out who took Tony and bring the bastard in. If we can get some leverage maybe we can get Tony out of this."

"You want to trade whoever is behind the op for DiNozzo's freedom?"

"It might work," Gibbs provided. "You got any better ideas?"

Vance tapped his fingers on his desk. "No, no I don't. I'll keep digging on this end and let you know when something comes up."

"Thanks, Leon. You might grow into that chair, yet." Gibbs smiled.

The Director picked up a toothpick and pointed it at the lead agent. "I have my own rules, Gibbs. And the first one is that we protect our own."

"Not a bad rule, Leon. Not a bad rule at all."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs walked back through the bullpen. "Find out anything on that clinic?"

Ziva stood. "It has been in operation for five years. Dr. Childers describes it as a place for treatment and research of severe neurological disorders."

"There's no clear funding stream, boss. The money to operate the facility comes from a variety of unidentified off shore accounts and unnamed clients. It could take a while to sort it out," McGee provided.

Gibbs mulled that information over. "Keep working on it, McGee."

"You do not trust Professor Childers, do you?" Ziva asked.

The lead agent sighed. "He's too interested in using Tony for his own benefit. I'm not sure if he cares how DiNozzo comes out of this," he said softly.

"If he does not protect Tony's well-being he will have us to answer to," she said firmly.

Gibbs smiled at her resolve. They might fuss and fight like a bunch of kids, but when it came down to it no one else could touch them. "Damn right about that." The lead agent turned toward the elevator. "Get the rest of the team together and have them at my house at 1800 hours."

"What for?" Ziva asked, as the elevator doors opened and he stepped inside.

"Dinner." The older man flashed his wry grin when the doors closed in front of him.

_NCISNCISNCIS _

"That has got to be my favorite part of the whole movie," Abby said, grinning giddily. "Really, Palmer, whatever made you pick "E.T.?"

The young man shrugged. "Tony said to pick anything I wanted, and you've got to admit this is a classic. I loved it when I was a kid."

They had just watched the young boys fly across the moon with ET in the bike basket. "Great choice, Palmer. At least I've heard of this one, not like some of those "classics" that Tony forces on us." McGee teased his partner.

"You have no appreciation for cinema," Tony mumbled, his head lying in Abby's lap. She stroked his hair lazily. He had been right; the medication had made it nearly impossible for him to stay awake for an entire two hour movie. "Now be quiet, you're going to miss the really emotional scenes."

The group had arrived at Gibbs' house as requested. Their boss had outdone himself, serving dinner of steak, baked potatoes, macaroni and cheese, and chocolate cake for desert. They were all of Tony's favorites, but the senior field agent barely picked at the meal; he was too nervous trying to figure out what Childers planned to do once he got them to Virginia.

Shortly after a dinner filled with suspicious looks thrown his way, the professor had been smart enough to call a cab and go back to his hotel for the night.

"The doctor in this movie kind of reminds me of Professor Childers," McGee said with a shudder.

"I guess that makes me ET," Tony said glumly.

"McGee!" Abby chastised. "You're upsetting him!"

"It's ok Abs. I don't really know why the good professor wants to pick through my brain anyway. Most people agree there isn't much there."

Ziva smirked. "I was wondering why the names and measurements of all the GSM models for the last ten years were a threat to national security."

"Don't forget their sexual preferences, Zee-Vah, there's a lot a girl can do with a can of whipped cream."

"Tony!" Abby exclaimed. He winced in preparation for a head-slap, but she kissed him on the cheek instead. He beamed up at her and snuggled more comfortably into her lap. McGee rolled his eyes dramatically.

Gibbs watched the exchange from the door of the kitchen where he and Ducky were drinking coffee and tidying up.

"You checked out those pills yet?" Gibbs asked the ME.

"Yes, Jethro. They all appear relatively safe and appropriate considering the headaches, seizures, and hallucinations Tony has been experiencing. The doses are quite high, but I can't argue with the medications themselves. The biggest problems are the side-effects; I can understand Tony's comparison to feeling like a zombie. It reminds me of a case I treated in Haiti; the local community had been in an uproar over what they called "zombie attacks", but it turns out…"

Gibbs looked at the physician tiredly.

"Right. Another time perhaps. Regardless, I think it wise for him to take the medication until we can be sure he is no longer experiencing any symptoms."

"Alright. I'll keep making him take them."

Ducky clapped his hand on the lead agent's back. "I have faith you'll get to the bottom of this, Jethro. Tony has faith in you, too."

Gibbs took another drink of his coffee. He better than anyone knew that sometimes faith alone wasn't nearly enough.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

After everyone else had left, Abby lingered, Tony snoring softly with his head still nestled on her lap. When Gibbs finally gave her the stare that meant it was long past time for her to go, she eased him to the couch and stood. Gibbs helped her slide into her black coat with black feathered trim. The Goth grimaced and rubbed her stomach. "Anything wrong?" the lead agent asked.

"Just a little tummy ache. I guess I ate too much of your chocolate cake," she grinned, before giving him a peck on the cheek. "Good night." Frowning, she placed a hand on her stomach again. "Way too much cake." She shook her head at the suddenly intense discomfort. She smiled to cover the stabbing pain, not wanting to give Gibbs any more to worry about. "You call me as soon as you guys get there. Promise?"

"Promise, Abs. Now get home and put yourself to bed."

"On it, bossman," she answered, scooting out the door.

Gibbs took a blanket out of the closet and placed it over Tony, deciding not to wake him since he looked more peaceful than he had in days, even though there were still lines of worry etched between his eyes. Gibbs' gut was telling him that they hadn't even scratched the surface of what had happened to the younger man.

The silver-haired agent wasn't exactly sure what to expect from their sojourn to Childers' clinic, or if this would end up helping or hurting Tony, but he had decided to follow one of his unofficial rules.

_Keep your friends close and your enemies closer_. If Childers was involved with Tony's disappearance, this trip to Virginia would be his best chance to find out.


	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: A major development at the end of this chapter that should please many of you! And I did want to mention that you shouldn't forget about the letter Tony wrote to Gibbs; it still needs to be read, doesn't it?**

**As always, you guys were lovely to me after the last chapter! I couldn't keep doing this without you. I hope to hear from you again this time. Thanks! **

"Rise and shine, DiNozzo. Car pulls out in thirty minutes." A pillow landed on his face.

Tony sat up from where he had fallen asleep on the couch. "What? I haven't even packed."

"Did it for you," Gibbs dropped a green duffel bag in the floor. "Got you some sweats, jeans, t-shirts, some of that hair-glop you use, a jacket, socks, and clean underwear. You do wear underwear, right?"

He saw a small grin. "Only when I know I'm not getting lucky."

Gibbs snorted. "Then I guess you'll be wearing some. Don't think we'll need much else where we're going."

Tony scrubbed a hand through his spiky hair. "Do I have time for a shower?"

"Make it quick. But first, here." The ex-marine handed him the cup of pills and a piece of toast. "There's some orange juice on the table."

"Boss…" Tony began.

"Non-negotiable, DiNozzo. Ducky agrees." He didn't know if he could stand watching Tony endure the headaches and seizures again; if Ducky thought this was necessary to stop that from happening he'd hold Tony's nose and shove the medicine down his throat if he had to.

Tony reluctantly swallowed the pills and nibbled the toast. He felt like he'd completely lost control of his life. "I hate this," he said.

"I know." Gibbs ran his own hand through Tony's hair trying to lighten the younger man's dark mood. "Go take a shower. We got a long ride ahead of us."

"Are you sure you want to do this, boss? Really, you could just stay here. I'll call every day, we can text." He paused and tilted his head. "Well, maybe you can't text, but McGee could help you with that, he could probably even set up a webcam, I actually already have one, but you probably don't want to know about that since I got it to talk to this girl who moved to New York…"

"DiNozzo! I'm going along, so you can shut up now."

"Shutting up, boss."

Tony knew he was fighting a losing battle; Gibbs wouldn't be talked out of going with him, so he had to figure out a way to get Childers out of their lives as quickly as possible.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony slept during most of the ride through the Virginia countryside, unaware of the beautiful scenery passing by the window. When Gibbs finally arrived at the end of a long gravel road that opened up to an expansive green field, even he had to appreciate the view from the top of the hill. An impressive building, similar to a Swiss chalet, was nestled back among the trees. A small pond glistened in the distance; dense forest surrounded the area. The result was absolutely stunning.

The lead agent nudged Tony to wake him up. "We're here, DiNozzo."

"Where's here?" He looked out the window. "Oh."

Tony wasn't completely sure he had been here before, but his hazy memories created a sense of déjà vu.

His stomach tied up like a pretzel; now that he was here, Tony felt pretty sure he wouldn't be going back home anytime soon.

Gibbs had eased his throbbing arm back into the sling. Driving all the way here was probably not a good idea, but Tony was too drugged to drive and there was no way he was giving Childers control of the car. So he dealt with the pain. He opened the passenger door and waited for Tony to get out. Walking along the sidewalk, DiNozzo stumbled slightly. The lead agent reached out to steady him. "I'm tripping boss, in more ways than one."

"That wasn't even funny in your head, was it?" Gibbs asked.

"Gotta try. Those drugs have me so whacked out I can't even walk a straight line, let alone tell a decent joke. I feel like a damn junkie."

Gibbs' phone rang before he could respond.

"Slow down, McGee. Did you say Abby's at the hospital? In the ER?" Gibbs listened to the response. "Ok. Call me as soon as you know something."

Tony was holding his breath listening to the conversation. "What's wrong with Abby?

"McGee doesn't know. She got sick last night after leaving my house; since she hasn't gotten any better he made her go to the emergency room. Ducky's on his way to meet them; McGee said he'll call as soon as he knows something."

Professor Childers was standing at the top of the steps leading to the entrance of the house. "I hate to hear that the lovely Abigail isn't feeling well. Aren't you, Tony?"

DiNozzo felt every hair on his body stand on end. He knew without a doubt that whatever was wrong with Abby was Childers' fault. The son of a bitch had hurt his friend, just to prove to him that he could, and would, do it.

Tony was sick and tired of being manipulated by this man; it was time for Childers to pay.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"I am not wearing this McGee!" Abby complained. "I look ridiculous!"

"Abby, please. The nurse will be back soon and they expect you to be in bed. I promise not to look at you," he cajoled.

Abby coughed. He could hear her moving around in the tiny bathroom adjacent to the ER cubicle. The familiar sound of retching came through the door. In all the years he had known her, Abby had never been sick before, and he hated to see her so weak and vulnerable.

"Are you alright? Do you need me to go find someone to help you?"

He waited a few moments before she finally replied. "No…..no, I'm ok. Just give me a minute."

The sound of running water was a sign she was rinsing her mouth. McGee stood nervously by the door waiting on the Goth. When she finally appeared, he sighed and smiled supportively at the sight of her.

Her dark hair was hanging down out of her usual pigtails, draping softly over her shoulders. There was no make-up on her face; the dark black lipstick and eyeliner she normally wore had rubbed off during the vomiting episodes. She was wearing a white hospital gown covered in blue flowers and light blue hospital issued socks.

She was decidedly un-Abby in appearance.

"I haven't puked since I was twelve and my best friend and I had a gummy bear eating contest. This isn't fun."

"No, Abs, I'm sure it isn't. Why don't you get back in bed?" He placed his hand on her arm as she slowly tottered toward the rumpled gurney. She groaned as she climbed in. "You don't know what I'd give to be at home in my own coffin."

"Coffin?" An ER doctor stood between the curtains separating their area from others in the room.

McGee attempted to explain. "Yeah, um, Abby she sleeps in a coffin, which isn't nearly as weird as it sounds. It's actually kinda comfortable once you get used to it, you just have to remember where you are when you wake up or it's a little scary….."

"McGee!" Abby swatted at him, trying to get him to be quiet.

"Sorry, Abby. I was just trying to explain…" He pointed at the doctor who had started to smirk. "But it's not what you think, Abby and I, we're not like that…I mean we were, sorta, but not anymore…"

Abby buried her head in her hands and prayed he would stop talking.

"Definitely none of my business," the physician commented, shaking his head and trying not to laugh. "Are you feeling any better?"

"A little," Abby replied, tucking her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. Ducky and Ziva entered the cubicle. "Hi guys," she greeted her friends softly.

"We're sorry to interrupt. I'm Dr. Donald Mallard and this is Special Agent Ziva David. How is our young lady?" Ducky gave Abby a comforting smile.

"Well, her blood tests are inconclusive but I'm guessing she has food poisoning. As long as the vomiting stops I think she should be able to go home in a few hours." He looked at Abby. "I would like to give you an IV of fluids before you go. I'll send a nurse in to get it started."

Abby's eyes grew wide. "I hate needles. I really, really hate needles."

"But Abby, you are a scientist. This should not bother you." Ziva said. "And what about all of your tattoos? They had to use needles for those."

"It's different when the needle is sticking inside you, Ziva. Do I really have to do this?" She looked pleadingly at Ducky.

The elderly Scot took her hand. "We'll stay with you, Abigail. You'll be fine, my dear."

She sighed and frowned. "I really wish Gibbs was here."

"So who won?" McGee asked, trying to distract her. "The gummy bear eating contest?"

Abby graced him with a small but tired smile. "I did, of course. I ate 500 and she only made it to 424 before we both blew chunks on my Mom's new couch. It was such a great day." She rested her head on her knees and grinned. Ducky patted her hair soothingly.

Her dark eyes grew wide when a nurse entered to start the IV. McGee winced as her grip on his hand tightened. "This is not going to be a great day at all," she whispered. "Not at all."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony barreled up the steps and into the professor's torso before Gibbs had time to react. The two men tumbled to the stone floor. DiNozzo rolled over on top of him and started throwing punches, which the doctor did his best to block.

"You did this to Abby! I know you did!" Tony wrapped his hands around Childers' neck and squeezed. The professor curled his fingers around DiNozzo's wrists and pulled weakly.

"You're trying to kill my friends, but I won't let you do it!" Tony's thumbs pressed into the soft skin of the man's throat which turned bright red under the assault. The older man's face took on a blue hue as Tony dug his thumbs into his windpipe.

"I love Abby, do you understand me? I'd rather spend the rest of my life in prison than let you hurt her!" Tony's voice was low and menacing. The professor gurgled and tried to move his head, but Tony continued to bear down on him with all his weight and fury. Any exhaustion he had previously felt was driven away by the overwhelming urge to kill this man once and for all.

"DiNozzo, let him go!" Gibbs commanded.

"I can't, boss! He's trying to kill Abby!"

"We don't know what's going on yet, Tony. Now get off him!" Using his stronger arm, Gibbs grabbed DiNozzo to pull him back, but Tony shook him loose, determined to end this now. Childers smacked Tony's forearms with his hands; his eyes bulged in his now purple face.

Three men ran out onto the veranda; the two large individuals raced forward and grasped Tony, pulling him away from the professor who leaned forward and gasped while rubbing his darkly bruised neck. Gibbs knelt down to check Childers' injured skin.

"He's a murderer, a damn murderer! He doesn't deserve to live!" Tony jerked free and started forward once more, clearly intending to continue his attack on the doctor. The two men surged ahead and quickly grabbed him again.

"Hold him still!" The younger man yelled, fumbling with a syringe. One of the guards locked an arm around Tony's neck while the other held Tony's forearm as tightly as possible before the lab assistant inserted the needle.

"What are you doing?" Gibbs yelled when he observed their actions. He stood and shoved himself into the skinny man's chest and grabbed the man's shirt in his fist. Tony was still struggling to break away from the larger guards.

"I'm trying to stop him before he kills someone!" the boy pushed his glasses back up on his nose, attempting to stand his ground in the face of Gibbs' anger.

The lead agent shook his head, trying not to pound the little man, before turning back toward his friend whose face was so red with exertion he looked ready to explode.

Gibbs moved close to his agent. "Tony, please, settle down. Please stop. Getting this upset isn't good for you." His main concern was getting Tony to calm down.

DiNozzo was sweating heavily and panting. His eyes were wide and filled with pain. "Why don't you believe me, boss? Why don't you trust me? It's Abby! You can't let him hurt Abby!"

"Tony, I won't let him hurt Abby. What do you think Childer's has done? How could he have anything to do with what's wrong with her? Tell me what it is you're talking about!"

Tony's legs collapsed out from under him, putting most of his weight on the men holding him. "I won't let him hurt her," he repeated, his voice becoming thick and slow; his chin dropping down onto his chest.

Childers stepped toward the quickly fading man. "Bring him in the house." The professor continued to rub his neck. The men half-carried, half-dragged Tony inside, through the great room and down a corridor. When Tony peered up at a hallway leading off the corridor, he planted his feet firmly on the ground and refused to budge.

"Don't take me in there! I won't go back in there!" He turned his head, blinking rapidly until he found Gibbs standing behind him. "Don't let him put me in that room again, boss. I won't go!" The large men forced him onward despite the fact Tony was pushing himself back and away from the long passage. "No!" he screamed. "No!"

_What the hell? _Tony was having an extreme reaction to just being in this place; he would have to check the passageway out as soon as he could get away. For right now, though, he couldn't leave Tony.

By the time they got the struggling agent past the hall and into a bedroom he was panting for breath. His eyes held a glassy and unfocused look that nearly made Gibbs sick. The guards had to lift him onto the bed since his body was limp and uncontrolled.

"Boss?" he asked fearfully. The sudden thought of being in this house alone with Childers overwhelmed him. "Boss?" He had to make sure that Gibbs hadn't left him; that he wasn't hallucinating again.

"I'm right here. Just relax." Gibbs touched his hair to reassure his friend that he hadn't gone. Tony grabbed his wrist and refused to let go.

The agent didn't seem to notice when Childers lifted his other wrist to take his pulse. His eyes opened and closed sluggishly. The doctor gave the young assistant a perturbed look. "How much did you give him?"

"I….I don't know, I was just trying to get him to stay down."

Childers shook his head in exasperation. "With the other meds he's on you've given him way too much. Get some portable oxygen in here; this is depressing his breathing rate."

In the middle of the chaos, Gibbs' phone rang. Tony was still desperately holding onto the older man's right wrist like it was a lifeline while he took slow and halting gulps of air; Gibbs eased his left arm out of the sling and found his phone. With one hand he flipped the device open.

"Yeah, Ducky, how's Abby?"

"They're sending her home, Jethro. It appears it was a bad case of food poisoning but in a few days she'll be good as new. How is Anthony settling in?"

The lead agent frowned as his nearly unconscious second-in-command was fitted with an oxygen mask. Tony continued to clench his wrist tightly. "He's had better days, Duck. I'll call you back with an update."

Childers folded his arms. "As you can see, Agent Gibbs, he's quite unstable and prone to unpredictable acts of violence. This should make it clear just how serious his condition is." The professor touched his bruised neck. "He could've killed me."

Something in Gibbs' gut made him wonder if they would have been better off if Tony had.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

When Tony woke it took a few minutes for him to recall what had happened. He tugged the oxygen mask off his face and tossed it aside. Outside the windows it was fully dark; Gibbs was asleep in a chair on the other side of the room.

He lay in the bed as his recollection of the day's events became sharper. _Abby. _He had to know what Childers had done to her.

Quietly, he crept from the bed, realizing he was at least still dressed in the sweats and t-shirt he'd arrived in. He grabbed his jacket from where it had been placed on a chair and retrieved his cell phone which was tucked in one of the pockets. Taking a few minutes to pull on tennis shoes, he glanced over at the lead agent who continued to snore softly. It was a testimony to the older man's exhaustion that Tony's muffled movements hadn't caused him to stir. Even the great Leroy Jethro Gibbs had to sleep sometime.

Silently, he moved and stood over the chair, looking down at the man who, for all intents and purposes, had changed his life. He picked up a throw from the end of the bed and carefully draped it over Gibbs' legs. For the first time, he noticed the dark streaks that had been a part of Gibbs' hair just a few years ago were gone, and there several more lines etching his face. To him, the older man was invincible and would live forever. Life without Gibbs to guide him would be unimaginable.

"I'll think of a way to get us out of this, boss. I give you my word on that."

Going back across the room, Tony gently eased the door open and slipped outside.

Finding an exit to the wide back porch, he stepped into the cool night air and flipped open the phone, dialing McGee. He knew it was late, but didn't really care.

"Tony?" the sleepy voice on the other end answered.

"How's Abby?"

"She's fine. They sent her home to rest, but said she should be ok in a day or two. I'm sleeping over just to keep her company," McGee explained.

"Thank god. What was wrong with her?"

"They aren't totally sure, but suspect food poisoning. The only weird thing is why she was the only one to get sick. We all ate the same food."

"Yeah, weird," Tony agreed. A shadow moved into place behind him. "Tell her I called. I gotta go." He hung up without waiting for a reply.

"How is dear Abigail?" Childers asked.

"I know you had something to do with this. Were you trying to prove a point?"

"Yes, I was. Did it work?"

"Gibbs should have let me kill you," Tony responded coldly.

"If you don't get yourself under control, Gibbs is the next one I'm going to target. And I won't settle for a mild case of salmonella. You're making him too suspicious of me."

Tony turned and pushed himself into the man's chest. Without warning, the doctor grabbed Tony's wrist and whipped his arm up and around, twisting so his limb was painfully pinned behind him. DiNozzo gasped in surprise.

"You might not realize this, Tony, but in order to survive in the dangerous company I keep, I've learned a lot of things, one of which is a variety of martial arts and other fighting techniques. You caught me off guard earlier, but I won't let that happen again. Next time you attack me, I will fight back, and I won't go down easy." The professor released him. "Now, come with me. We have some things to do."

Tony rubbed his arm and watched the doctor warily.

"You don't seem to be listening, Tony. I'm not wasting any more time with you."

DiNozzo hesitantly followed Childers into the house. He wondered if he should go wake Gibbs and get the hell out of there. But where would they go? Childers would have the FBI and Homeland Security all over his ass. Gibbs didn't deserve to become a fugitive for his sake. So Tony let the doctor lead him back down the hallway he so clearly remembered from his earlier stay in the house. Simply being back in the space made his heart beat faster and his skin turn clammy. They stopped outside a locked door; Childers punched in a code to the familiar room.

Inside, Tony could see all the same equipment he recalled from before: the chair, the screens, the monitors, everything.

"Why can't you just leave me alone?" he asked.

"The techniques I've used on you are worth millions. I can sell them to any number of countries interested in creating a unit of home grown terrorists. You are my proof, my evidence of the possibilities. A live subject is so much more convincing than documents in a file or recordings. You are going to make me wealthy beyond my wildest dreams and at the same time turn all my theories into reality."

"You're never going to let me go, are you?"

"Eventually, Tony, everyone outlasts their usefulness. You will too, I'm sure." There was no compassion, no sympathy in the professor's voice. He could have been talking about an inanimate object instead of a living, breathing human being.

Feeling like a condemned man on the way to his own execution, but seeing no other option, Tony walked inside.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs awoke with a start, feeling as if something was wrong. He stood and glanced at the bed, finding Tony curled up asleep. The young man's face was more ashen than it had been the night before, but there was no sign he was in pain or struggling to breathe. Since it was still early, the lead agent decided to let him rest.

He had wanted to explore the house last night, but had been afraid to leave Tony alone. For several hours he sat on the edge of the bed while his agent kept his hand firmly wrapped around his own arm, refusing to let go even in sleep. Eventually DiNozzo's grip relaxed and Gibbs had eased his own tired body into the chair, finally succumbing to sleep. He would have to find time to check the clinic out today; Tony's reaction to being here had been too bad for him to wait very long.

Grabbing his own gear he headed out into the living room. Childers sat on a couch reading a newspaper; he was wearing a polo shirt and khakis, appearing refreshed and relaxed. He removed his glasses and smiled brightly. "Agent Gibbs! I'm sorry you spent such an uncomfortable night sleeping in that chair. Let me show you to your own room where you can freshen up. The cook should have breakfast ready shortly and we can discuss the rest of our day."

Gibbs nodded his agreement; after a quick shower and change of clothes he joined the professor on the deck where breakfast was already being served. He took a seat as the skinny young man walked up to the table. "I didn't get to formally introduce you last night; Agent Gibbs, this is Andrew, my research assistant."

The two men eyed each other warily but shook hands. "Andrew, would you stop in and see if Tony would like to join us? And prepare my office; I want to have a therapy session with him as soon as possible."

"Yes, sir," Andrew agreed and turned away.

Gibbs drank some black coffee while they waited for Tony. "So what kind of session are you talking about?"

"We'll start by seeing what he remembers and how he handles discussing his experience. His reactions have been all over the place, so I'm honestly not so sure what we'll be able to get accomplished. I'll decide what to do next based on the way he responds today."

DiNozzo entered the deck wearing jeans and a light sweater. His brown hair was still damp and tousled from a shower. Normally, Tony would have it fixed and styled before making an appearance, but today he didn't seem to care. Gibbs noticed that the black circles under his eyes were more pronounced than when they arrived. He actually looked a lot worse than he had just yesterday morning. Tony took an empty seat and stared at the bacon and eggs sitting in front of him. Childers had also placed a small cup of pills next to the orange juice and coffee.

The field agent glanced over at Gibbs, who gave one of his nonverbal head tilts of approval. Tony silently took the pills, drank some juice, and picked up a fork to poke at the fluffy mound of eggs. Gibbs cleared his throat. "Abby's going to be fine, Tony. Ducky said she had food poisoning."

"I know. I talked to McGee last night."

Gibbs didn't hide his surprise. "Oh."

Tony shrugged and put down the fork. "I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. You were out cold."

Gibbs picked up a knife to cut into the steak that accompanied his eggs. Suddenly, Tony saw Gibbs pointing the knife at him. _You better not go to sleep tonight, DiNozzo. I might use this knife on you. _Tony stood up, knocking his chair loudly to the floor.

_This can't be happening again. I can't do this again, _he thought desperately.

"What is it, Tony?" Gibbs asked. "You ok?" Childers scrutinized his response.

"I'm fine. I, uh…" His hand ran through his wet hair. "I thought I saw something," he finally added weakly.

Childers stood. "Why don't we head to my office? I don't think anyone's in the mood for breakfast anyway."

Gibbs stayed close to Tony's side as they passed through the house. Tony's eyes flitted from side to side, revealing his anxiety.

The dark wood and soft leather chairs in the office should have been inviting, but Tony felt anything but relaxed. He nervously sat down on the couch, unsure of exactly where this "session" was going. It was all for Gibbs' benefit anyway; Tony already remembered almost everything that happened here and Childers knew that.

"Let's start with something easy. Do you recall how you were taken?" Childers turned on a tape recorder.

Tony shifted and scratched his head. "No…I just woke up….there."

"Where?"

Tony licked his lips, not certain how much he should reveal. "A room. All white, nothing but me and a toilet." The doctor made some notes.

"How long were you there?" he asked.

"A while….I don't really know….days, I guess."

"Days?" Gibbs interjected.

Tony shrugged uncomfortably. "I couldn't keep track of it, but it was a long time."

"Did you see or talk to anyone?" Childers again.

"No. Not until…." He stopped.

"Until what?" Gibbs pressed.

"I guess I was dehydrated, hallucinating. They came then. I was pretty out of it; I hadn't slept any either."

"Did you accept their help? Or did you try to resist?" Childers asked.

Tony shot him a scorching glare. It was obvious he wanted Tony to admit in front of Gibbs that he had given in to him. This man was a true sadist. "I had to let them help me; it was that or die; what else should I have done?" His hands curled into helpless fists.

"What happened next?" Childers continued to press him for information he already held first-hand knowledge of.

"You know what happened next! They beat me up, drugged me, and threw me back in that fucking room! Look, I'm done talking about this. I'm going for a walk."

Childers moved to stop him, but Gibbs stepped in front of the doctor.

"Let him have some time alone. There's nowhere for him to go and he needs to think."

"What would he do without you, Agent Gibbs? Who would take care of things when he can't do it for himself? No wonder he's spent half his career at your side." There was a mocking tone to Childers' voice that irked Gibbs.

"He'd do just fine without me. DiNozzo's his own man."

"Really? Now who's lying to himself?" Childers left the agent standing in the office alone.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"I know you're behind me, boss," Tony said softly.

"You're pretty good at that," Gibbs pointed out. Tony sailed another rock out over the sparkling water; the rock bounced four times across the choppy surface before sinking out of sight.

"We had a lake house one summer; it's amazing what you can become good at when you don't have much to do."

"You ever fish on that lake?" Tony turned to find Gibbs had removed his sling and was holding two fishing poles in his left hand and a tackle box in his right. "Found this stuff in the shed out back."

"Why am I not surprised you were rummaging through the shed? Should you be using your arm like that?" Tony shared his concern.

"The arm's feeling better. I need to stretch it some or it gets stiff."

"Sure it does." Tony took the poles from his hand. "And to answer your question, fishing wasn't high on my dad's list of things to do. There was a groundskeeper; he took me a couple of times, but it was so long ago I don't remember much about it."

"It's a great way to relax; ranks right up there with building a boat."

"I always thought it was a little boring—fishing, not building a boat," Tony corrected quickly. "Waiting hours for a fish isn't very exciting," Tony explained. "It's definitely not what I would consider an extreme sport."

"Another word for that is patience, DiNozzo. It's a quality you could try to use more often." Gibbs was walking out on the small pier, expecting Tony to follow. He sat the tackle box on the weathered grey decking. "Help me out here. I'll tell you what to do."

Under Gibbs' instruction, Tony managed to ready the fishing lines and bait the hooks. After a few tries Gibbs had him casting. Tony took off his shoes, plopped down on the deck, and let his feet dangle in the water while they waited for something to bite.

"I feel like Tom Sawyer."

"You act like him, too," Gibbs agreed with a laugh. About that time Tony's line jerked.

"Hey! I think I got something!" the senior field agent cried.

"Reel it in slowly," Gibbs directed. A few minutes later Tony was laughing while he tried to hold onto a decent-sized trout wiggling in his hands.

"What do I do with it?" Tony asked, wearing a silly grin and holding the fish in front of him as it slapped back and forth.

"What do you want to do with it? I guess we could have it for dinner." He chuckled. Gibbs knew that Tony joked about getting his job because he smiled, and in one way that was true. Gibbs had never seen anyone who could display so many emotions with his smile. For a while, the lead agent had been worried he'd never see the totally happy kid-like grin of Tony's again. DiNozzo's ability to completely enjoy a moment, no matter how silly, goofy, or inappropriate, was a trait he loved in the younger man. It was one of the things that made being around Tony a pleasure.

The smile faded as quickly as it had arrived; Tony considered what to do with the squirming fish. "I probably better throw him back, boss. I doubt he wanted to get caught by us today, besides he might have a nice fish family to go back to."

"Whatever you say, DiNozzo," Gibbs allowed. He helped Tony remove the hook from the mouth of the fish and toss it back in.

The afternoon sun had moved across the sky which was quickly turning black promising a drenching thunderstorm. Off in the distance streaks of lightening chased each other through onyx clouds. Thunder crashed and rolled ominously; small peaks of water beat harder against the pier as the wind picked up. Tony noticed Gibbs rubbing his injured bicep. "We probably should get back inside. Childers will have his two goons down here looking for me soon."

They gathered up the gear and headed toward the house. "Tony," Gibbs said as they walked. "Why did you get so upset yesterday? What made you believe Childers had anything to do with Abby getting sick?"

Tony took a deep breath. "I don't know. I guess everything just overwhelmed me and I kind of lost it." He shrugged at the poor explanation.

Gibbs wasn't convinced his senior field agent was being honest, but realized he would have to get at the truth another way since Tony wasn't talking. "You don't have to be ashamed of what was done to you. No one knows how they'll deal with the kind of situation you've been in; you didn't do anything wrong."

Tony was quiet. "I don't know, boss. I doubt if you would've broken so easily."

"I'm sure you held out as long as anyone could, even me. You're alive, and that's what matters most."

Tony stopped walking and sighed. "Thanks, boss, for, you know, today, and….the other night in your basement….and everything."

Gibbs gave the younger man an unreadable stare, and then held the fishing rods out to him. Tony took them without thinking. He flinched at the light slap Gibbs brushed against his head.

"What was that for?"

"For thanking me for doing something you should expect me to do! I'm here for you Tony; I have been for ten years and I always will be. You don't have to thank me for that; I do it because I want to. There will never be a time when I won't. Get that through that thick skull of yours."

A half-smile crossed his face at the gentle rebuke. "Right, boss," Tony replied. Gibbs took the rods from his hand and they continued to trudge up the small hill to the shed. They made it just as the first drops of rain started to fall. After storing the fishing equipment they ran through a warm drizzle and a light wind back to the main house, Tony unable to shake the feeling that the storm was an omen of bad things to come.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

After a light dinner, Childers gave Tony his meds and suggested he go to bed. The younger man started to argue, but the tightness closing in on his head made him decide to go along with the request. He hadn't slept much at all the night before, and it was likely Childers would have him back up again tonight. A few hours sleep would help to keep him thinking clearly. _He hoped. _He still hadn't figured a way out of this mess.

He loved Gibbs. He loved the team, all the way down to McGee, even though he would never admit it out loud to any of them. They were his family, and they were all that mattered to him now. His own life was forfeit; he had decided that even before he went down to Gibbs' basement. He might not take his life with his own hand for Gibbs' sake, but he would hand it over willingly if it was what he had to do to keep them from harm.

He lay down on top of the covers, his head throbbing in time with the rain pounding on the window, choices, options, and decisions chasing him into his dreams.

"_I never should have wasted my time on you, DiNozzo! You're a liar and a screw-up. I'm going to make you pay for always letting me down." Gibbs smacked him in the face and punched him in the stomach. "I'll show you what a bastard I am!" The silver-haired man wrapped his arm around Tony's neck and closed off his supply of air. _

_"No, boss, don't!"_

_You have to stop him Tony. You'll have to kill him before he kills you._

"No!" Tony screamed and sat up in bed, shaking. A clap of thunder accentuated his cry as he woke from the nightmare. This would not happen again; he wouldn't let it. And he would never, no matter what Childers did to him or how many visions intruded his dreams, ever be convinced to turn against Gibbs.

The professor opened the door to his room. "It's time to join me again, Tony."

DiNozzo looked around the quiet room and wondered where Gibbs was. It was going to be a very long night.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"So, Mr. Palmer, are you ready to call it quits?" Dr. Mallard questioned, his blue eyes holding a hint of a challenge as they met the young assistant's.

"I'm staying if you are, Dr. Mallard," Palmer answered.

"Good man! It reminds me of a series of unexplained deaths a colleague and I were investigating in Sri Lanka. I was an assistant myself then; it was many years ago. The medical examiner and I worked nine days straight before discovering the cause of death and nabbing the nasty killer!"

Palmer waited, but Ducky didn't elaborate. "Who was the killer, doctor?"

The ME laughed. "A parakeet. Seems he had a form of virus that was quite deadly to humans. The poor bird succumbed to the disease himself. We never got a chance to put him in a cage for his crime!"

"So what are we looking for, Doctor?" They were once more reviewing the autopsy results, charts, and x-rays of the four men who had exhibited similar behavior to Tony.

"I don't exactly know, Mr. Palmer. Anything unusual that might shed some light on dear Anthony's condition." The Scot picked up a file and skimmed it. "I can't put my finger on it, but I suppose you might say I have something similar to one of Gibbs' gut instincts. I have a nagging sensation there's something we've missed."

Palmer hoped the "nagging sensation" wasn't the corned-beef sandwich the doctor had eaten for lunch.

The two men quietly studied the various pieces of documentation before them. "Doctor Mallard, what do you think this is?" Palmer was staring intently at two x-rays.

Ducky moved in next to his young helper. "This, right here. There's a similar spot on both x-rays." He pointed at a small round dot visible behind the ear of both men. Ducky's eyes narrowed.

"You are quite right, Mr. Palmer!" His tone conveyed excitement. The elderly physician grabbed x-rays of the other two killer's skulls. "The same anomaly appears on this image as well! Of course, poor Lieutenant Dunham's skull was too damaged to be of much help." He displayed all three x-rays together. "Good work, my boy! But what exactly have you found?"

Palmer frowned. "Professor Childers didn't mention any sort of issue when he examined Tony."

Ducky froze. "Oh, heavens. Tony did have such a bump. I felt it myself. Childers claimed it was a result of Anthony falling in the courtroom."

The ME's lips thinned into a grim line. "He was lying. He was lying, Mr. Palmer!" The older man rushed to his computer and logged in. Jimmy followed and looked over his shoulder.

"The professor authored an article several years ago describing the effects of magnetic stimulation on certain areas of the brain to enhance susceptibility to behavioral suggestion. He researched the effect on several groups of mice." The doctor scrolled down a list of titles. "Ah, here it is. It was quite innovative and well-received in the research community. Childers suggested human clinical trials to determine if the effect would carry over, but despite the possibilities, the idea was not approved."

"Is that what he was doing to these men? And to Tony? Experimenting on them?" Palmer asked.

Ducky shook his head sorrowfully. "Professor Childers is the one responsible for the deaths of these men, their victims, and Anthony's dire situation. And I welcomed the man into our midst! I'll never forgive myself, Mr. Palmer." He stood. "I must call Jethro at once. He and Tony are in grave danger."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony was seated in the chair again staring at the ceiling. Childers had started an IV and Andrew was attaching various monitors to his chest and forehead. The professor placed a lead directly on the incision behind Tony's ear. He winced at the pain that spiked through his head.

"This reminds me of a movie. "Little Shop of Horrors" with Steve Martin, 1986. All we need is a singing plant. Or maybe you could fill in for that role, Andrew."

"I'm glad you still have your sense of humor, Tony," Childers commented dryly, placing Velcro straps across his wrists. Tony watched him before making eye contact with the professor.

"I know what you're trying to do this time. You want to see if you can get me to kill Gibbs. It won't work. I'll never do it."

"After the last few weeks, how can you be so sure, Agent DiNozzo? With just the right combination of drugs, electrical stimulation of your brain, and imprinted images, I believe I can get you to do anything I want. I am the one with the doctorate in neurology. We'll see who's right."

"I won't do it. Nothing could ever make me." He repeated his vow even as he could feel the cold burn of the medication in his veins, the throb of electricity coursing into his brain, the pictures flashing in front of his eyes, and the voices whispering in his ears. "I won't. I won't."

One of the security guards entered the lab. "Agent Gibbs is not in his room. And it appears the silent alarm in your office has been tripped."

Childers smiled. "Andrew, you carry on here. I have to go see how Agent Gibbs is enjoying his private tour of my office. I'll be right back."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs smiled when he heard the click of the lock to Childers' office and slid the small tools he had been using back into his pocket. Turning the knob he stepped inside, shutting the door behind him. So far his search of the clinic had been less than informative. The rooms in the passageway that had freaked Tony out were locked with a keypad and he had no way of knowing how to get inside. None of the rooms he had searched held anything incriminating. That was when he decided to see what he could find in the professor's office.

He also chose to use the privacy of the office to make a call. Taking out his phone he found Kort's number and dialed. The CIA operative answered on the second ring.

"It's about time you called."

"What have you got?"

"A start. You've uncovered quite an operation; it's been going on for years. I haven't found the head of the serpent yet, but I will. I did find out something about Tony, though."

"What?" Gibbs was opening drawers and thumbing through filing cabinets. He tugged at one that was locked; pressing the phone between his shoulder and cheek, he used his knife and jimmied the drawer open.

"The project was called…" Kort started.

"Snake Charmer," Gibbs finished.

"How did you know that?"

"I'm looking at a file on it now." The information Gibbs had found described the overall project, subsequent dossiers profiled over twenty individuals who had been subjects of the research; the last manila folder was an outline of Tony. They had started gathering information on him over five years ago. _While I was in Mexico,_ Gibbs realized.

"From what I gathered the op started out as sanctioned by the CIA and Homeland Security; individuals were approached to volunteer for the project. They tried to stick with military men to make things less complicated. I assume they got wind of Tony after crossing paths with NCIS," Kort continued. _I was off indulging in my self-pity, _Gibbs thought.

"Someone from the op approached Jenny about getting Tony involved. For whatever reason they felt his background made him an ideal subject."

Gibbs sucked in a breath. "Did she approve it?"

"Not as far as I can ascertain. She approached Tony about volunteering for a military research project; he said he would consider it, but I doubt he had any idea of the true nature of the op. Once Jenny found out all the details she said no." _I should have been there,_ Gibbs chastised himself.

"It seems whoever is running this show never forgot about him or some of the others they were recruiting. When government funding ran out it got taken underground. My superiors are very interested in discovering who's behind this action." Kort paused. "It's this Professor Childers isn't it? He's a damn shady character, hiding right in plain sight. I couldn't find much on him besides what he wants people to know. But I can assure you, I'm not done yet."

"He's been planning this for years." Gibbs skimmed the background on Tony. _Weak family ties; neglectful and possibly abusive father. Mother deceased. No siblings. Difficulty establishing lasting relationships._ _Highly intelligent but often unmotivated to succeed. Excellent physical condition. Unusually strong bond with current co-workers, specifically Lead NCIS Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Emotional attachments can be used as leverage to establish control._

"Gibbs!" Kort's voice broke through his increasing worry. "Where are you?"

"I'm with Childers. I have to call Vance."

Gibbs ended the call, but hesitated before contacting the NCIS Director. What the hell was going on here? If Childers was in command of this operation, why had he allowed him to accompany Tony here in the first place? The phone in his hand started ringing. Gibbs looked down at the screen. _Ducky._

The ME's frantic tone greeted him. "You have to get Tony out of there, Jethro! It's…."

"Childers. I know."

"Hand over the phone, Agent Gibbs." The professor stood in the doorway holding a gun. Seeing no alternative, Gibbs cut off Ducky's concerned voice and tossed him the phone. Childers caught it in his left hand while maintaining a steady hold of the weapon in his right.

"I'm actually rather glad my secret is out. It was getting more complicated to keep you in the dark than I had anticipated. This will make things much easier for all of us."

"I won't let you get away with this. I won't let you get away with hurting Tony."

"As far as I can tell I already have gotten away with it. I don't see where you have many choices, Gibbs. Now come on, Tony is waiting for us."

With his gut clenched tight as a fist, Gibbs walked out into the hall.


	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: A few more complications ahead as we move toward resolution. We still have Tony's letter to read and Kort isn't out of the picture yet. **

**Thanks again for all your wonderful reviews! I love to read each and every one. I've tried to reply to everybody, but tonight I'm pretty exhausted from work, kids, and typing, so I think I missed a few. My apologies, and know they were still appreciated. I'll do better after this chapter, promise!**

Childers stopped in front of a door and waved the gun he was holding, indicating for Gibbs to enter the room first. The lead agent walked where the professor pointed, halting in front of the man. His steel blue eyes sliced into the doctor.

"Whatever you're planning, I won't make it easy."

Childers remained unfazed. "I never expected you would. Step inside, please."

The two men entered a small room bordered by a row of large windows. The glass provided viewing into an area below.

"I thought you might want to see for yourself what I've been doing with Tony. We've been at it for a while now; the fun is really getting ready to start."

Gibbs didn't hesitate; he wanted to know exactly what was happening so he could do everything possible to help DiNozzo. He was still somewhat unprepared for the sight in the adjoining room.

Tony was strapped to a chair and squirming as if trying to escape from the images being displayed on the screen in front of him. His ears had small wires trailing into earbuds; Gibbs suspected unpleasant sounds were assaulting his senses since whenever the agent closed his eyes he would shake his head violently like he was trying to dislodge them. There were various monitors attached to his head, neck and chest; an IV line pumped some unknown substance into his veins.

"I won't do it, I won't hurt him, I don't care what you do to me! You might as well kill me now because I'll never do what you want!" the agent yelled.

_Fight them with all you've got, Tony, _Gibbs silently encouraged, even as the bottom dropped out of his stomach at having to witness the scene before him.

Somehow they had created pictures of the team dying in various graphic ways; images of Tony himself bleeding and lying dead were flashed on the screen in front of him. Pictures of Gibbs appeared and disappeared intermittently.

Andrew was standing behind a small device; he adjusted a setting and Tony screamed, his arms jerking against the straps holding him in place. "My fucking head is going to explode! You have to stop!" His hair was plastered down from the beads of sweat that covered his pale and blotchy skin, his eyes searched desperately for someone to make the agonizing pain end.

Gibbs placed a hand on the glass and stood stock still, wishing there was some way for Tony to know he was there with him. He turned with a deadly glare toward Childers, who continued to hold the gun toward him. "Ah, ah, ah, Agent Gibbs. Don't try to interfere."

The lab assistant wrote a few notes on a chart before moving back to the device and making another adjustment. Andrew watched Tony's response with a neutral expression.

"Noooo, no, no," Tony yelled, riveting Gibbs' attention to the room below. He could anticipate what was coming before it started. The field agent's body twitched then spasmed in the tell-tale movements of a full-out seizure. His corded neck bulged and twisted with the painful-looking muscle contractions. After several minutes spent straining against the restraints, he sighed and collapsed against the chair, unconscious, his head limply rolling to the side.

Even though seeing Tony lose consciousness frightened him, Gibbs was grateful that for the time being the torture was over and his friend wasn't suffering anymore.

"Being able to turn someone's character and personality upside down in two weeks was quite an accomplishment, don't you think? This time I was hoping to get him to turn on you in a matter of days, but I will have to concede I don't think that is going to work out. He's rather attached to you. Oh well, I'll just have to keep trying. I have a few more ideas up my sleeve."

Gibbs didn't turn around to look at the man behind him when he quietly spoke. "I will kill you, Childers, if it's the last thing on this earth I ever do."

The professor laughed. "You are such a marine! All those threats and posturing! We'll see Gibbs; right now I have the advantage. Come on, I think we need to move you to some new accommodations."

The lead agent reluctantly turned from where he was watching Andrew remove the monitors from Tony's grey skin. He wondered how much of this torment DiNozzo had been forced to endure; it was amazing he had been able to hold himself together at all.

The former gunnery sergeant's jaw clenched tightly. "That wasn't a threat Childers, it was a promise."

The doctor forced Gibbs toward another door that could only be opened with a code. Punching in the numbers, the professor smiled. "Tony was quite used to this room during his previous stay here. I hope you like it as much as he did. And for the record," he added. "Your promises don't scare me."

Gibbs stepped inside the barren white walls that provided no warmth or comfort. "Don't worry, I'll come back eventually," Childers said, and sealed him in.

Ice blue eyes scanned the small space, turning over the fact that Tony had been forced to stay here for days upon days with no food, no water, no idea what was being done to him. It was perfectly understandable why the field agent was on the verge of insanity. Knowing there was nothing he could currently do; Gibbs put his back to the wall and sank to the floor. An opportunity would ultimately present itself; he just had to be patient enough to wait for it.

And pray that nothing else happened to Tony in the meantime.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Vance stepped off the elevator and entered autopsy; he was wearing an NCIS sweatshirt and jeans. The frantic call from Ducky hadn't offered much time to put on more appropriate office attire.

Dr. Mallard and Palmer were waiting. Palmer jumped off a gleaming silver autopsy table, Ducky flicked on the lights behind the x-rays. "What is it that's so all fired important to get me up in the middle of the night, Doctor?"

"This. It proves that Professor Childers is behind the abductions and experimentation on the marines we've been investigating and on Anthony. These x-rays all show the same evidence of some type of tiny mechanism surgically implanted under the skull behind the ear. Childers has done extensive research on just such a procedure in conjunction with increased susceptibility for behavioral influence. I myself felt the same type of implant behind Tony's ear. We must get Tony and Gibbs away from that man immediately!"

Vance studied the films lit up in front of him; the implications were obvious. He and the team had been used and the entire government had been duped by the professor. It also meant that Gibbs and Tony were in serious trouble.

"Have you contacted David and McGee?"

"They should be here any time."

The agents, as well as Abby, poured out of the elevator and into the lab right at that moment. "Is this what you were describing over the phone?" Ziva asked, inspecting the x-rays.

"Yes, my dear, I'm afraid so," Dr. Mallard replied.

"That bastard!" Abby exclaimed, scanning the images. "He let us run around here trying everything possible to find out what was wrong with Tony, and he was behind it all along!" Her eyes grew worried. "Has anyone called Gibbs yet?"

Ducky paced nervously. "I tried, but we were disconnected. I have a feeling we were interrupted by Professor Childers; I believe I heard him talking in the background." The ME slammed a frustrated fist on a table. "I should have suspected something sooner! Who knows what he's done to Tony and now Gibbs as well!"

Abby rubbed the ME's shoulders and draped her arms around his neck. "This isn't your fault, Ducky. None of us were suspicious enough of the professor. Don't blame yourself."

"He tried to tell me." Ziva looked up at them, her eyes filled with guilt. "After Tony was arrested, he tried to attack Childers and told me the professor was behind everything. I thought he was just rambling incoherently." She shook her head. "He is my partner and I should have believed him."

Somewhat awkwardly, Vance placed a hand on Ziva's arm. "I heard him, too, Agent David. We had no reason to suspect it wasn't just another hallucination." Vance nodded at Abby. "Ms. Scuito is right, Childers was very clever and has tricked more than just us; he had all of Homeland Security believing him. Let's not waste time blaming ourselves, but focus on how to help Gibbs and Tony."

"We need to get to that clinic," McGee pointed out. "How far away is it?"

"Around six hours," Palmer supplied the answer. "Tony was complaining about the long car ride."

"Can we get a helicopter?" Ziva asked.

Vance pulled a toothpick out of his pocket. "I'll see what I can do. McGee, contact the local authorities and find out if they can get someone over there to check out the place."

"On it, Director."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Andrew and the guards brought Tony back to his room and placed him in bed. Childers checked his pulse and blood pressure again with some concern. "His vital signs are elevated; he doesn't seem to be bouncing back as quickly this time. I didn't think we increased the intensity of the process that much."

"It could be where he was already weakened by the previous round of sessions. The seizures aren't helping any," the assistant suggested.

"Yes, we do need to figure out a way to eliminate or reduce those; the effects are exhausting and in a real scenario could cause the subject to be identified. We will have to work on that." The doctor pulled a blanket over the sleeping agent. "I want you to keep a close eye on him tonight; I don't want any more complications."

"What do you plan on doing with Agent Gibbs?"

"I haven't decided yet. We could just kill him, but I'm thinking there must be some way we could use him to increase our control over Tony. I'll come up with something. For right now, he won't be causing us any more problems." The doctor paused. "The bigger issue is his phone call I interrupted. I suspect we'll soon be joined by Dr. Mallard, Director Vance. and the rest of the Major Crimes Response Team." His brow furrowed. "Andrew, I think it's time we move to our northern facility. Prepare to leave early tomorrow. I'd rather be gone by the time Agent Gibbs' colleagues arrive."

"And what about Tony? I expect you'll want to take him with us?" Andrew questioned.

"Absolutely. I have no intention of leaving Agent DiNozzo behind."

"You know he won't cooperate. Do you think you can get him to go willingly or will we have to force him?"

The professor laced his fingers together thoughtfully as he watched the restlessly sleeping man. "Good work, Andrew. I think you might have just figured out how to best use Agent Gibbs."

The young man beamed at the compliment.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The team waited impatiently in the bullpen for Vance to let them know if he had procured a helicopter. Thunder and lightning continued to vie for attention in the rain soaked sky; droplets of water pelted the large window panes.

"It's been raining forever! This is not a good sign at all; it's bringing us bad luck," Abby exclaimed, pacing back and forth.

"Rain is a sign of nourishment and growth, Abby. It is not always a negative thing," Ziva commented, putting her arm around the scientist.

"It's bad when the rain won't stop, it's accompanied by sixty mile per hour winds, and they're thinking about giving it a name like Ivan or Katrina. I heard on the news that low-lying areas are starting to flood and some roads have been washed out."

"Which _is_ bad news for us," Vance stated, trotting down the stairs. "Until the storm breaks I can't get us a chopper or any other air transportation. It looks like unless we want to wait, we're going to have to drive."

"What are the chances the storm will pass soon?" McGee questioned.

Vance shook his head. "Not good, I'm afraid. This is part of a slow-moving tropical storm; according to the national weather center we could be looking at another 12 to 24 hours of severe wind, rain, and lightening. Most of the helicopters that are flying are currently doing rescue missions in flooded areas. I don't really want to drive in this mess, but I don't know that we have a choice."

"What about Homeland Security? Won't they help?" Ducky suggested.

Vance laughed bitterly and shook his head. "I've been wasting my time with a series of increasingly dense beaurocrats all night. None of them want to admit they were wrong about the professor and refuse to do anything without more evidence. I've faxed them Dr. Mallard's findings, but I doubt we'll get any assistance from them in time to help Gibbs and Tony."

"McGee, have you contacted the local authorities about going to Childers' clinic?" Ziva asked.

The junior agent nodded in the affirmative. "I have, and they promise to have someone out there as soon as they can. Unfortunately, the storm is complicating that, too; the clinic is located in a rural area with few resources and most of their law enforcement officers are out dealing with weather related emergencies. They promised to try and free someone up to go take a look, but without more concrete proof that Tony and Gibbs are in danger, I don't think it's going to get a very high priority."

Ducky stood. "Then what are we sitting around waiting for? Someone gas the car and let's get out of here!"

Vance frowned skeptically. "I'm not sure you need to come along for this, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky faced the Director, seeming to stand taller than his diminutive height should allow. "We have no idea what kind of condition Tony, or even Gibbs for that matter, will be in when we find them. You said yourself that the storm is making it difficult to get assistance; having a physician with you only makes sense. I must insist on accompanying you."

Vance conceded to the physician's sound logic. "Alright, doctor, you have a point. McGee, David, let's go."

Ziva patted Abby on the arm. "We will keep you in the circle."

Abby took Ziva's face in her hands. "You call as soon as you know something. Promise?"

"I promise Abby."

The Goth nodded, continuing to squish the Israeli's cheeks. "And it's loop, Ziva, in the loop. Now go break all Ninja bad-ass on that doctor. You show him nobody hurts our Tony and gets away with it."

Abby released her friend and Ziva smiled. "It will be my pleasure."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony awoke to booming thunder. He sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head, trying to get his bearings. Dark clouds covered the sun, but even in the semi-darkness he could tell it was late in the morning. Rain continued to strike the window. He had obviously slept through the night and part of the day.

It was an understatement to say he felt like crap. His head reverberated with every beat of his heart and his muscles ached painfully. His brain felt like it was stuffed full of cotton. Tony tried to latch on to the last clear memory he could find, eventually recalling Childers coming into this room to get him. After that, everything took on fuzzy edges; he knew he had been taken back to the professor's lab, but other than that he wasn't really sure.

_Gibbs. _He could see images of the lead agent flash across his memory; insane pictures of his boss killing people, shooting them, hurting members of the team, hurting him. Tony shook his head despite the pain the movement caused. Childers was screwing with him again; if there was one fact he needed to hold on to it was that under no circumstance would Gibbs ever harm him or anyone else he cared about.

The memories were like scenes from a bad movie, and Tony felt they were having little effect on him. He actually laughed at the knowledge that despite the doctor's best effort, this time the man was making minimal headway. Granted, it had only been two days, but any ability to resist on his part was significant to Tony. It meant that maybe there was a way to outlast the professor's influence and not be turned into one of his pod people.

_Gibbs. _Where was the lead agent? Tony knew the older man hadn't been in the room with him when Childers had entered earlier, and there was still no sign of him. What in the hell had Childers done? How long had he been out of it? Eight, maybe ten hours? Anything could have happened to his friend and mentor in that amount of time. Regardless of how bad he felt, Tony had to get on his feet and find out if Gibbs needed help.

He threw back the covers and stood, the toes on his bare feet curling into the soft carpet as he tried to find his balance. It took a few seconds, but he was eventually able to move forward without swaying, determined to locate Gibbs and deal with Childers once and for all.

The house was silent save for the snapping and cracking of tree branches flung about by the wind and the pelting of rain against the roof. He padded quietly through the living room, the offices, the kitchen and dining area, the small infirmary, seeing no one. Finally he found himself standing at the end of the hallway leading to the dreaded rooms where Childers had held him captive and conducted his "sessions." Taking a deep breath he inched down the corridor, willing to do anything to find Gibbs, even face a personal demon or two. Trying the doors he discovered they were locked and he had no idea what the code was to open either room.

Sighing with frustration he ran a hand through his hair and leaned heavily against the wall while he tried to figure out what to do next. A part of him wanted to sink to the floor and give up; he was so tired, both physically and mentally, that he didn't know how much more he had to give. But he knew that Gibbs wouldn't quit if the roles were reversed, so he pulled himself together. "Okay, boss," he said out loud. "Where are you?"

The only place he hadn't looked was outside; it was a long shot, but he should probably check the shed. Without further thought he ran for the front door and out into the storm.

The wind buffeted him with stinging bullets of rain; gravel cut into the skin on his bare feet as he jogged along the sodden path. He blinked at the streaks of lightening that lit up the sky like Christmas bulbs. Within minutes his hair was drenched, his grey Ohio State t-shirt and track pants soaked to his flesh. A tree limb bent and cracked sharply, the disconnected limbs rolling down the hill toward the lake. Tony raised his arm to shield his face and eyes from blowing leaves and debris.

Reaching the small building, Tony tugged the door open and slumped inside, momentarily shocked by the sudden lack of blinding wind and sheets of rain. He leaned over and put his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. Looking up through streams of water dripping from his hair, he scanned the tiny space, cursing softly when he concluded he was alone. It wouldn't have made sense for Gibbs to be here in the first place, but he was out of ideas about where to search. Somehow he was going to have to get into those locked rooms; they were the only places left.

Feeling a rush of hysteria, he laughed out loud. "You know, Tony, this reminds me of a movie." He straightened and wagged his finger into the dark. "Could be "I Am Legend", 2008, with Will Smith. But at least in that movie the main character had zombies and a dog to keep him company. Seems like I'm all by myself in this one."

"No, Tony you're not alone."

Tony turned to see the professor framed in the doorway wearing a long raincoat and a hat. He took the hat off and shook the water into the floor.

"What are you doing out here, Tony? You can't be feeling all that well yet, you should be in bed." The professor feigned concern.

"Where is he? What have you done with him?"

"Who, Tony?"

"You know who I'm talking about! Stop playing your stupid mind-games with me! Where is Gibbs, you mother-fucking bastard!" Tony shook with a surge of adrenaline.

"Oh, Agent Gibbs. He's fine, but I'll have to admit he's quite a determined individual. I was sure I could keep our little secret from him for a while longer, but he managed to figure everything out. I guess that's a testimony to his many years as an investigator. Anyway, he's taken up your old room; you know the one you had become so partial to."

Tony started to rush forward, rational thought leaving him, the only idea remaining the urge to kill the sadistic son-of-a-bitch in front of him. Before he had taken two steps, the professor held out a gun.

"Let's not go there again, Tony. I really don't want to have to harm you any more than I already have. Now calm down and let's talk. I'm leaving here later today; I intend for you to come with me."

Tony paused, and as the lightening streaked its way down from the heavens, he had a moment of clarity, and suddenly knew exactly what he had to do.

"I'll go with you," he said flatly. "Wherever you want to take me. I'll cooperate with anything you have in mind, given two conditions. First, you won't harm Gibbs or any of my friends."

Childers considered the offer. "You know what you're anteing up, don't you, Tony? You would willingly give me your mind and your body in order to save him? Knowing what will happen to you?"

There was no hesitation, no second-guessing. The course was set and there was no turning back. "Yes," he replied. His life for Gibbs? It was a no-brainer.

"I think that's a worthy trade, my friend. Gibbs, I believe, would be very proud of your self-sacrifice as opposed to your normal self-indulgence."

"I guess that shows how much you know about Gibbs. He's always been proud of me; it's just taken me a while to figure that out." He moved toward the door, ready to get this over with. "And the second condition is that you take me to see Gibbs. I want a chance to say goodbye."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

McGee spit water out of his face and tilted his head to the side to clear the wetness from his ears. "You ready, McGee?" Vance asked, yelling slightly so he could be heard over the wind.

"Yeah, sure," the young man answered. He leaned forward and placed his hands on the rear of the SUV.

"Alright, Ziva, give it some gas!" Vance called out. The engine roared to life, the tires spinning in tight circles slinging chunks of mud all over the two agents who pushed the SUV from behind.

The vehicle moved a few inches before settling back into the slick rut it was stuck in. The SUV they were driving had slid off the road after rounding a corner and encountering a small mudslide, which Vance had deftly avoided with some quick defensive maneuvering. However, the result was the SUV had become lodged in several feet of deep, clingy mud.

"Put some muscle into it, McGee!" the Director ordered the slightly built and less than muscular field agent. "Punch it again, Ziva," he yelled. Once more the motor raced. Vance pushed his shoulder against the rear of the SUV; McGee shoved at the same time.

Abruptly the vehicle broke free from the grip of the thick black mud, lurching ahead without warning. McGee lost his grip and slipped several times before splattering face first in the oozing wet muck. Vance stumbled, but managed to keep his footing without hitting the ground.

The Director walked over to the dripping agent, who was sitting up and flinging globs of chunky brown from his hands. McGee wiped thickly caked sod from his cheeks and groaned. He would've sworn it was impossible to feel any wetter than he had before; he was wrong.

"Need some help?" Vance attempted to tug the soggy man from the clutches of the wet earth; Tim slid on the slick surface as he rose to his feet, instinctively throwing his arms over the Director's shoulders to stop himself from falling again. "McGee!" Vance roared, as both men struggled to stay upright and avoid rolling on the cold damp ground once more.

"S….sorry!" McGee forced himself to stand still and not slide around like he was performing with the Ice Capades. He was pressed into the Director, their faces merely inches apart, smearing mud all over the older man's clothes as he hung on to him for dear life.

"Agent McGee, get your arms off me and slowly step away." Vance's voice was precise, measured, and not at all happy.

Tim raised his hands off his superior and inched backward ever so carefully. "Of course, Director." He slipped a bit as he continued to step gingerly and not very gracefully out of the mud. "I'm good," he assured no one in particular.

Vance brushed some of the clinging clumps off his shirt and pants, unable to remove much of the ground-in substance. A brown-coated McGee walked past a smirking Ziva and a grinning Ducky; he held his arms out to his sides trying not to get himself any more drenched than he already was. He cast a sidelong glance at the two of them and scowled.

The frowning Director trudged back to the driver's side of the vehicle. "We're already hours off schedule because of this damn storm. Let's get going." He gave a slight shake of his head at the sight of the younger agent. "McGee, you're in the back. Try not to get mud on everything."

McGee looked down at his sprayed and spattered body, wondering how it would be possible for him to not cover anything he touched in the chocolate colored substance.

Ducky tilted his head sympathetically as the four wet teammates headed back inside the SUV. "Shotgun," the ME burred to Ziva as he moved past her to claim the front seat. She raised an eyebrow but let the older man pass.

Vance pulled out again slowly, ensuring the vehicle stayed safely on the road this time. "McGee, after that last detour, where the hell are we? I have a feeling we're driving around in circles out here."

"Uh, the GPS isn't working, Director, it just keeps saying "acquiring satellites"; must be the storm."

"What's the good old-fashioned map say, Timothy?" Dr. Mallard inquired, hoping Tim's map-reading skills proved to be better than Palmer's.

"The map," McGee repeated. He unfolded the unwieldy paper, bumping into Ziva in the process. "Sorry. I think we stay on this road about ten more miles then make a left. That'll get us back to the main road. I think."

"You think?" Vance repeated.

Ziva reached over his shoulder and flicked a spot of mud off the map. "Oh, thanks. Make that a right, Director."

Vance sighed. At the pace they were driving, requisitioning a horse and buggy might have gotten them there faster.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Andrew and the security guards were waiting when Tony and Childers returned to the house, slamming the door behind them to keep the driving rain outside. Tony shook himself to try and get some of the rain off, but he was thorougly soaked and it didn't help much. He shivered in the cold air. Childers handed his gun to Andrew before removing his hat and coat and tossing them on a chair.

DiNozzo stood in the center of the room and waited.

Childers smiled. "Tony has agreed to come with us and continue with our research. But he's requested to speak to Agent Gibbs before we leave. You gentlemen go get Gibbs so he can have one last chat with his boss." He nodded at the guards, who left the room to retrieve the federal agent. "Isn't that what you call him, Tony, your boss?" The professor goaded the younger man. "Do you remember what you told me before? You said Agent Gibbs would kill me when he found out what I was doing. It hasn't worked out that way, has it?"

"Enjoy this while it lasts, Childers. Your time will come," Tony said, trying to project an air of assurance he really didn't feel.

"I admire your confidence, Tony." Childers walked next to him and leaned into his ear. "I think it might help if you could see your idol brought down a peg or two."

"I told you not to hurt him," Tony warned the professor.

Childers laughed. "How about I just promise not to kill him."

Gibbs was walked into the room ahead of the armed guards, both of whom kept their weapons trained on the NCIS agent. "And here he is now."

The silver-haired man assessed the younger agent quickly, trying to determine how he was doing after Childers' evening of torture. Tony was dripping wet, obviously having been out in the storm for some reason, and had crossed his arms trying to ward off the cold. His eyes were darker and more hollowed out than they had been the day before. It was hard to believe this time yesterday they had been out fishing on the lake. "You okay, Tony?" he asked cautiously.

"Yeah, boss. How about you? Your arm holding up alright? How long did he have you locked up?" Tony noted the fact the blue sling was missing and Gibbs was holding his injured arm bent slightly and close to his waist. Conjuring up memories of his own time in the white cell, he was also worried about Gibbs having to stay in there for any extended period of time.

Gibbs half-grinned. People could think what they wanted about the sometimes self-centered younger man, but when the situation was serious he always put everyone else ahead of himself. "I'm good, DiNozzo; I barely had time to get bored. I wondered how long it was going to take before Childers here decided he missed me." Gibbs wanted his easy banter to reassure Tony and convey that he hadn't been harmed.

A sharp crack followed by the explosive sound of snapping and crashing interrupted the discussion; streaks of lightning electrified the sky and thunder cracked deafeningly.

"What was that?" Andrew asked.

The professor shook his head. "I don't know, Andrew. Maybe you should check it out," Childers directed.

The assistant looked ready to protest until he caught Childers' no nonsense gaze, and closed his mouth without saying anything. They watched while the young man pulled on a coat and dashed out into the storm; the security guards never lowered their weapons as they waited for his return.

Gibbs decided to use the opportunity to prod the professor. "You do realize that Dr. Mallard knows about your operation. I'm surprised he and Vance aren't here already."

Tony's head popped up at this information. Maybe the situation wasn't so bad after all.

Childers' huffed. "In this storm? I can't imagine they'll get here very quickly. Fortunately, I have a specially equipped Hummer waiting to get us out. Unless they have access to some serious off road vehicles, I'm not too worried."

Andrew opened the door again, the wind catching it and pulling it backward, almost taking him back out, too. The thin young man struggled to get the door shut; Childers finally helped him take the handle and force the door closed against the raging storm.

Andrew was breathing heavily and dripping on the floor. "It was part of a tree. Fell across the driveway; it'll have to be moved for us to get out of here."

Childers considered the situation before addressing the security guards. "You two go take care of it. Get the debris cleared as fast as you can. I want to leave as soon as possible."

Andrew trained his gun on Gibbs again before the guards made their way out into the storm. The silver-haired agent gave the assisstant a challenging stare, which caused Andrew to visibly swallow and readjust his grip on the weapon.

Gibbs frowned and looked over at Tony, who quickly cast his eyes downward. _Shit._ "Going somewhere?" he asked Childers.

"You'll be happy to know that Tony has agreed to accompany us to another location to help continue our work. Of course, he wanted something in return for his cooperation. I'm sure you can guess the terms of our agreement."

Gibbs sighed and gazed at his senior field agent. Tony pressed his lips together and shrugged. _Leave him alone for five minutes and this is what happens._ "Tony, you don't have to do this."

"I think I do, boss." Tony's eyes were faintly pleading, trying to express without words that taking this step was something he needed to do, he had to do, for so many reasons he wasn't going to have a chance to explain.

The lead agent turned toward Childers, stepping in close to the professor and taking one last, desperate shot at getting DiNozzo out of this. "Take me instead. Leave him the hell alone."

"Very touching, but I don't want you Gibbs. Tony's the one I've invested my time and efforts in; he's the one I need. Just be grateful he's so willing to give up everything to see you go free."

Rage and fury suddenly blinding him, Gibbs reached out with his right hand and grabbed Childers around the neck and squeezed, sweeping his foot under the man's leg sending him to the floor. Even with his injured left arm still hanging loosely at his side, Gibbs deftly jumped atop Childers using his knee to press into the professor's stomach and his forearm to push Childer's face into the floor.

Tony started to move forward to help, but Andrew stuck the gun he was holding into his back. "Don't move, Tony. This particular fight isn't yours." DiNozzo saw the look of fire that lit up Childers' eyes before the doctor lashed out.

The professor burst into movement, twisting viciously and throwing Gibbs off-balance and forcing him to land awkwardly on the ground, his useless arm striking the hard surface and drawing a gasp from the lead agent. In one quidk movement Childers rolled over and stood up as Gibbs regained his knees. Childers kicked out and struck the former marine's bandaged arm with his foot. The federal agent gasped and fell back down.

The professor smiled. "You and DiNozzo both underestimate me, Gibbs. I'm far more lethal than you ever gave me credit for."

Childers kicked Gibbs in the side, knocking the breath from the silver-haired man. Despite the sharp pain the agent grabbed the doctor's ankle and pulled him off his feet. They scuffled for several seconds. Gibbs attempted to hold himself upright without the full use of his increasingly numb left arm, prior to punching the other man in the jaw and losing his balance again. The professor rocked backward before striking out with a blow to Gibbs' kidneys, which he followed with a fist to the agent's eye. Gaining the upper hand, Childers continued to rain punches on the fading agent who, despite the attack, managed to struggle to his feet.

With renewed force, Gibbs rushed forward and used his lowered right shoulder to shove Childers into a small glass table, knocking a lamp and several vases to the floor, glass shattering around the two men who continued to grapple with one another as they rolled through the broken pieces. Dark red drops of blood spotted the light pine floor. Tony rushed toward the combatants, his green eyes fixed on the large ragged piece of clear glass protruding from Gibbs' thigh.

"Stop!" DiNozzo yelled. "You said you wouldn't hurt him!"

Andrew held the gun in the air and pulled the trigger, the shot echoing throughout the house. All three men immediately ceased moving.

Gibbs knelt on one knee, his hand wrapping his thigh above the dangerously pointed chunk of glass. Blood covered his pants and he breathed heavily, both from the exertion of the fight and the tendrils of pain pulsing through his leg.

"Don't move another muscle," Andrew shouted at Gibbs. "Or I'll put a bullet in his head." The skinny man held the weapon close to Tony's temple. Gibbs tightened his lips and held position.

Childers stood, using the back of his hand to wipe blood from his mangled lips and slowly bleeding nose. A purple bruise was already forming next to his eye. He took several minutes to catch his breath before speaking.

He cleared his throat. "As I was saying before you so rudely interrupted me, Agent Gibbs, Tony is going with us. He did request a final word with you before we leave; which, despite your behavior, I am inclined to permit." The professor stepped next to the field agent. "Make it quick," he whispered. "We don't have time for an Academy Award winning moment."

DiNozzo crossed the floor to where his boss had sunk down. "Here," Tony said, and carefully took Gibbs under the arms and as gently as possible pulled him over to rest against a sofa. "Is that any better?" Tony eyed the shard cautiously.

"Tony, this is crazy. You can't go with him."

Tony leaned down close to Gibbs and laughed humorlessly. "Crazy is as crazy does."

The older man pushed himself up straighter, trying not to grimace. "You don't have to do this, Tony. Not for me."

The senior field agent smiled. "I do, boss. You know me better than that." Gibbs sighed. He did know the other man better than that. Tony would never be able to live with watching him die; he'd rather sacrifice himself. The feeling was mutual; unfortunately Gibbs wasn't in a position to do anything about it at the moment.

"Boss, I wanted to tell you something. About Rota," he paused and grinned slightly. "I never would have taken it, or any other place they offered me. I'd probably come up with some lame excuse about how you and the rest of the team need me…"

"We do need you, Tony," the lead agent said forcefully.

Tony smiled. "The truth is, Gibbs;_ I_ need _you_." He laughed self-consciously. "I always have. Those other places, other teams, they wouldn't matter if I was alone again. You gave me a home, and I could never let that go even to be a team leader. I guess I'm kind of like a stray dog you picked up; I won't go away until you make me. Actually, I'd probably still come back."

"Tony…" Gibbs began; his voice thick with emotion.

The younger man shook his head. "Thanks, boss, for everything you've done for me. I'm so sorry if I've disappointed you."

"You have never disappointed me, Tony. I'm more proud of you right now than I have ever been in my life. Now you listen to me, DiNozzo. You listening?"

Tony couldn't help but laugh at the oh-so-familiar phrase. Gibbs might need to consider getting it patented. "Yeah, boss, I'm listening."

"Don't let that bastard break you. Don't give him a damn inch of you. If it gets tough, just hang on to the fact that _I am coming to get you_. And I expect to find the same wise-ass, smart-mouthed, arrogant pain-in-the ass you've always been, nothing less. I'll walk through the gates of hell and fight Satan himself to bring you home. Do you understand me?" The wrinkled blue eyes never wavered, never blinked; they held his own with a soul-wrenching intensity.

The field agent's green eyes grew damp. As was normal with their odd-couple friendship, Gibbs didn't have to say the words, but Tony could feel the unexpressed love wrap around him like a blanket. He realized that knowing was enough to help him face what was coming. "I gotcha, boss."

The older man reached out and gently pushed DiNozzo's chin up, which brought another wan smile. "You too, boss." Tony hesitated for a second, before carefully hugging the ex-marine. "I'll see ya." He straightened up and walked back to Childers and Andrew.

Gibbs watched as Andrew motioned for Tony to go to the door, following with the gun still pointed at him. When the door opened another flash of lightening crisscrossed the sky and for an instant Tony was silhouetted against the dark night; in another flash he was gone.

Childers knelt next to Gibbs, staring coldly into his pale blue eyes. "I'll take good care of your boy for you, Agent Gibbs."

Taking a handkerchief from his pocket, the doctor grasped the end of the glass and ruthlessly pulled it out of Gibbs' flesh. The ex-gunnery sergeant screamed and grabbed the wound. Blood gushed around his fingers from the ripped and torn hole.

"Have fun bleeding out, Gibbs. I'll tell Tony you said bye." And with that, Childers was gone, too, leaving Gibbs alone with only the sound of the rain, the wind, the thunder, and the beating of his own heart to keep him company while he watched his blood pool around him on the floor.


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: I know you guys are dying to get rid of Childers. I'll take it as a compliment that I have created a fictional villain worthy of death threats. I promise he gets his just reward very, very soon.**

**Love to hear what you think! As always, you are the best!**

**TLH**

"In here!"

"He's bleeding badly!"

"Gibbs, can you hear me?"

"Get my bag out of the car! I've got to get this bleeding stopped!"

"If you can hear me, Gibbs, squeeze my hand."

"Tony…..find Tony…"

"McGee, clear the rest of the house, see if you can locate DiNozzo."

"On it, Director."

"He's gone…Tony's gone….."

"We'll find him, Jethro. Just lie still."

"Didn't have his six…." Gibbs blue eyes popped open slightly. "We gotta get him back."

McGee returned to the living room and shook his head.

Vance placed a comforting hand on Gibbs' shoulder. "We'll find Tony. But we've got to take care of you, first."

Ducky moved in and started working on the bleeding wound; despite the fear and anxiety he felt for his senior field agent, Gibbs pain-filled eyes slowly slid shut once more.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Dr. Mallard finished suturing the gash closed. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. "Not my best work, but at least he isn't losing any more blood. It'll have to be re-evaluated when we get him to hospital, but my handiwork will have to do for now."

The lead agent was pale and sweaty; he hadn't regained consciousness since his rambling request to find Tony. Ziva held his bloody hand; Vance and McGee looked on with concern.

"He still does not respond to us," Ziva said. "Has he lost too much blood?"

Ducky checked the agent's pulse again and thinned his lips solemnly. "He has lost a significant amount of blood, and it would be best to get him a transfusion as soon as possible." The doctor paused and watched as rain continued to batter the window. "However, the storm might make that impossible to do in a timely manner. Driving back out of here would take hours, and I don't think we can count on getting rescue personnel to arrive swiftly. I really hate the idea of him spending a significant amount of time in a car in his condition."

McGee glanced up, an idea evident on his face. "There was a lab, Ducky. I found it when I was searching for Tony. Do you think it might have something you could use to help him?"

Ducky nodded affirmatively. "Possibly. Why don't we go ahead and move Jethro down there and see what we can do for him."

McGee and Vance carefully maneuvered Gibbs' upper body while Ziva carried his legs. After several tense minutes they made it to the lab and placed the injured agent in the chair. "What is this place?" Ziva asked, glancing around the equipment filled room.

"I would guess this is where Professor Childers carried out some of his questionable "research" on poor Anthony." The ME rummaged through cabinets and drawers, withdrawing several intravenous needles and tubing. "I believe this is exactly what I need." He turned toward Vance. "Could you bring another chair or a stool in here? Quickly, please."

Vance didn't question the doctor's brusque request, heading out to fulfill the elderly man's order. "Ziva, wash up, I might need your help," he told the pretty Israeli. She gave him a questioning look, but also complied with the command since he was at the moment extremely focused on helping Gibbs.

"Is there something I should do?" McGee asked. "I'll do whatever you want me to."

"Yes, yes there is Timothy. Take off that filthy jacket and shirt, then thoroughly wash your hands. Ah, Director, sit that chair over here close to Jethro."

McGee peered at Ziva who seemed equally confused, but he did as Ducky asked, removing the mud-caked articles of clothing and cleaning himself off.

"Well, have a seat McGee, we need to get this started," Ducky said impatiently once the younger man was finished removing as much mud as possible.

"Start what, Ducky? I don't understand what you want me to do," he said, sitting down.

Ducky picked up his arm and started poking around inquisitively.

"Yes, Dr. Mallard, what exactly are you doing?" Vance inquired.

"McGee and Jethro are the same blood type. I'm going to set up a transfusion between the two of them. It should get Jethro back on his feet fairly quickly."

"You're what?" Tim asked nervously when the Scot approached him with a needle. "I don't know if I like this idea," he added, glancing at the others for reassurance.

"Don't be silly, Timothy. The procedure is quite painless, and you said you'd do anything to help Gibbs, didn't you?" Dr. Mallard innocently reminded him.

McGee turned his head desperately between Ziva and Vance, closing his eyes when Ducky expertly inserted the needle into the artery at his wrist.

Vance grinned. "I can't wait to tell Gibbs that you two are blood brothers."

McGee swallowed hard. He didn't think they should tell Gibbs at all.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Ziva touched the various leads and wires that lay around the room; she peered at the bottles of medication and IV bags that lined a small refrigerator. She peeked over her shoulder at Gibbs, who was sleeping soundly, and was happy to see some color had found its way back into the lead agent's milky white skin. The restraints lying loose on the chair he was seated in made her shudder.

Vance entered the room. "McGee's resting on the couch; Ducky found some orange juice for him but he's still pretty exhausted." He noticed her gazing at the medical instruments.

"What do you think they did to him?" she asked softly, not making eye contact.

The Director walked over to stand behind her. "I don't exactly know. Whatever they did, Tony will come through it. One thing about DiNozzo; he might whine a lot, but he's pretty tough when it counts. Gibbs has made sure of that."

Ziva smiled. "I think he has always been tough; Gibbs just fine-tuned it for him with a system of well-placed headslaps."

"Jethro would've made a good drill sergeant."

"He's listening to you," Gibbs muttered.

"Welcome back," Vance said. "You really did a number on yourself this time."

The blue eyes scanned the room, looked down at his still-throbbing leg, then narrowed as he seemed to come to a conclusion. "Ziva. Search Childers' office for any clues about where he might have taken DiNozzo. We need a lead before they get too far away."

"Yes, Gibbs." She was glad to have a chance to do something more useful than drive herself crazy imagining the torture Tony had endured in this room.

After the former Mossad agent left, Gibbs stared steadily at the wall without speaking.

Vance went for a toothpick in his pocket. "This isn't your fault," he finally commented.

"He traded himself for me. He willingly went with that bastard to keep me and the team safe."

The Director thought that over. "For such a narcissistic person, Tony always seems to be the first one to throw himself into the line of fire. It reminds me of someone else I know."

Gibbs grinned sheepishly at the comparison. "He's learned his lessons well, but it helped that he had a big heart to start with. That's one of the reasons I had to have him on my team. It's taken you long enough to figure that out, Leon."

Vance humphed. "His enigmatic personality doesn't make it easy for those of us who don't come equipped with a crystal ball."

"I won't let Childers have him. I'll get him back." Gibbs declared.

"You're right, Gibbs. _We_ will get him back."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs was wearing his blue NIS t-shirt and khakis. He'd been released from the hospital after several frustrating days of inactivity, then spent the remainder of the week at the office trying to track down anything he could on DiNozzo and Childers' whereabouts. They had found nothing.

Ducky finally ordered them all to go home. Twenty hour days with barely time to run out and grab a change of clothes had pushed them all to the brink of collapse. Gibbs had tried to argue with the diminutive physician, but when he took the time to observe the haggard appearance of his team members, he realized they needed a break but would refuse to leave unless he set the example. None of them wanted to be the first to concede that finding Tony might take longer than they anticipated.

So Gibbs found himself limping down the wooden stairs to his basement. He turned on the light and, favoring his right leg, walked slowly over to the stool in the corner, the same stool Tony had sat on days ago while he held a gun to his head. The unsettling incident seemed like it happened a lifetime ago. Sitting down, he pulled his glasses out of his pocket and put them on, before removing the envelope Tony had left for him on the hospital nightstand. He stared at it, at Tony's name for him on the front,_ Boss,_ not Gibbs, or Jethro, but the simple and straight-forward Boss. He had heard Tony say it a hundred times, in a hundred different ways, with affection, humor, remorse, and even fear. _Gotcha, boss. On your six, boss. Crystal, boss._ It had been said to him in person, on the phone, over a satellite link, but never in writing. There was a discomforting formality to it. It hadn't occurred to him what it would be like to never hear that silky, emotion-laden voice say that word to him again. It would haunt him in his dreams.

Carefully he broke the seal on the envelope and took out a folded piece of paper. He had considered not reading the letter, but Tony had taken the time to write it, and he felt he should respect that effort enough to read the words. With an intake of breath that he unconsciously held, he began skimming the cramped handwriting.

_I'm not very good at this, but I guess that doesn't surprise you very much after spending so many years reading the literary masterpieces otherwise known as my reports. I've only written two other letters in my life; the first one was to my Mother and it's buried with her in a grave in Long Island. The second was to Jeanne, and I have a feeling it was either burnt to a crisp or ripped to shreds (I probably deserved that.) And now this one, to you._

_Don't feel bad about the way things have turned out because you couldn't have done anything to stop it. I know you think it's your job to take care of me (and the rest of the team), but sometimes there's only so much you can do. Kate and Jenny would understand. I hope you understand, too._

Gibbs stopped reading, knowing he needed more support to continue. He wasn't ready yet to put Tony in the category with his other failures, Kate and Jenny already among them. He laid the letter on the counter and found a mason jar filled with nails, dumping the contents out before grabbing the always handy bottle of bourbon and pouring a glass. He took a stiff drank and sat the glass back down. The bourbon burned his throat a little, the fiery liquid settling warmly in the empty hole in his belly, which unfortunately didn't go away. With steady hands honed from years holding a sniper rifle under the most extreme circumstances, he picked up the letter and continued to read.

_When we first met years ago, I knew that working for you would change my life, and I was right about that. What I didn't know was how much __you__ would change __me__. You made me a better person, a person I never, ever thought I could be. I know people laugh at the way I jump to do everything you say, the way I memorize your rules and follow your every command, but I don't care because each and every day you've shown me what it means to be a man. And you always believed I could be that kind of man, too. _

_I just wish I believed in myself half as much as you do._

_I know how you feel about apologies, so I won't tell you how sorry I am for doing this. I can't stand knowing that I've let you and everyone else down. All I ever wanted was for you to feel like you hadn't made a mistake by choosing to make me a part of your team and a part of your life. __It would be nice if a simple headslap could fix this mess; we both know it's gone too far for that._

_Thanks for everything, boss, but most of all for always being there for me, even when I didn't deserve it. I wish there was something more that I could call you besides boss, because you've been so much more to me than that. You've been my hero, my mentor, my friend, and the kind of father I didn't even know existed. I'm so glad that for the last ten years I finally got to find out what it was like to really have a Dad. You took on that job when no one else wanted it, and well, there are no words to express how much that has meant to me. A simple thank you just isn't enough._

_So I guess I should end with what I should have told you a long time ago, but never had the strength or the courage to say._

_I Love You,_

_Tony_

Gibbs read the letter through twice before folding it up and placing it back in the envelope. Going over to the counter he moved around a few errant tools and took down a small, dusty metal box. Opening the lid he smiled at the pictures of Kelly and Shannon that were tucked inside. Shannon with her hand on her stomach when she was pregnant, Kelly dressed up like a pumpkin for Halloween. He kept the photographs down here so he could look at them when he was working on a project; he liked to know they were close. Picking up Tony's letter he added it to the other special items in the box.

Placing the tin back in its place on the shelf, he chugged the rest of the glass of bourbon and poured another. A week had passed, a week and he was no closer to finding DiNozzo than when he started. Despite the bourbon, a cold chill ran down his spine when he considered what might be happening to his senior field agent at the hands of the sadistic Childers right this very minute.

Gibbs propped himself against the wall and slid to the floor, leaning his head against the cold concrete. He had promised Tony he wouldn't stop until he found him, and he planned on keeping that promise regardless of how long it took or what he had to do. He hadn't been able to save Kate or Jenny, or even Shannon and Kelly, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to somehow save DiNozzo.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"You agreed to cooperate. I really don't see this as cooperation, Tony."

The guard laying unconscious in the floor probably didn't see Tony as being very cooperative either. "Maybe next time he'll be more polite when he asks me to do something," Tony responded sharply. "I told you I'd come along and be your little pet monkey, but I never said I'd make it easy."

Childers sighed. With the drugs and mind-numbing sessions he'd been giving DiNozzo for the past week, it was amazing the man could still stand on his own two feet, let alone knock out a fully functional and highly trained security guard. Somehow, the agent had managed to do just that. He was becoming more and more difficult to handle with each passing day.

Tony pulled himself up taller despite an overwhelming urge to find a dark and cozy spot and lie down. His head was throbbing, but that had become such a normal part of his existence that he practically ignored it. He had thrown himself headlong into his completely annoying, don't give a shit, you'll regret the day you ever met me mode. His father had always been a big fan of the attitude. "This isn't working, you know. I've figured out how to resist and nothing you do is going to matter this time."

The professor smirked. "You know how to stop my procedures from working on you? Please, share your insight with me."

"I can't tell you all my secrets, it would make our relationship so much less interesting. Knowing that I've got your number keeps me warm at night, which is a good thing considering my less than luxurious accommodations. I'd rather keep you guessing."

Childers smacked Tony in the face with the back of his hand. DiNozzo, unphased, licked the blood from his lower lip with the tip of his tongue.

"Bring him to the lab," Childers ordered.

Forced along at the end of a gun, Tony tried to maintain his confident attitude. So far he had been able to withstand what the professor was throwing at him. He thought about his promise to Gibbs, and vowed to keep his chin up no matter what the doctor did.

Tony steeled his nerves as they strapped him in the chair. He had learned how to deal with this; he'd be fine.

"I have a few new techniques to try Tony. Your stubbornness has made them necessary." The doctor turned to Andrew. "Gag him."

DiNozzo froze. "What? You don't have to do that."

"That's not your decision to make," Childers responded. Andrew approached Tony and shoved a black latex ball into his mouth, strapping it tightly to his head. The professor then brought out something that looked like goggles. "These produce three-dimensional images; I think you'll find the quality much more realistic than what we had been using." He covered Tony's wide green eyes with the glasses, again affixing them so they couldn't be dislodged. Tony felt disoriented and claustrophobic with both his sight and speech eliminated. He started at the feel of the headphones being forced in his ears; suddenly it was as if he was entombed with no ability to speak, hear, or see. Hands touched him everywhere, adding the monitors and IV line that were always a part of the process; eventually a line was attached to the implant behind his ear.

DiNozzo tried to breathe slowly through his nose to stay as calm as possible. _I can handle this,_ he repeated.

The onslaught was sudden and intense. His head buzzed and thrummed, a jackhammer taking up residence behind his eyes.

_Oh dear lord._

He saw himself sitting in a chair, Gibbs walking around him. It was like looking through an old-fashioned viewfinder that moved.

"_I'm sorry boss, I've tried to do what you said. I've tried to stop him," his image said to the silver-haired agent. Gibbs gave a hardened stare, but didn't speak._

The pain in his head intensified, the jackhammers drilling in other parts of his brain for an escape hatch.

_Gibbs took out his knife, the hunting knife he always carried with him. Silently he walked behind Tony, and gently stroked his hair. "What do you want me to do now, boss? Just tell me, I'll do it." Gibbs grabbed his hair and violently pulled his head back, touching the knife to his neck._ "_Don't, boss. Please, don't." Gibbs pressed the knife into his flesh, bearing down and drawing it across his throat. His boss, his friend, the man he would walk through a lake of fire for, peeled the blade across his skin. He felt the burn in his throat, the pulse of his blood draining from the wound._

He tried to scream but the gag muffled any sound that attempted to emerge.

_Gibbs held the bloody knife in front of him and ruthlessly plunged it into his stomach. Once, twice, three times. Pain coursed through him. He pressed his hands into the wounds, blood seeping through his fingers. "Why are you doing this, boss?" he begged the silent man. "Why?"_

Unable to differentiate fantasy from reality, Tony flinched at the attack and lost control of his bowels. He was panting through his nose when the smell assaulted him. He strained against the straps, tossed his head to try and remove the goggles, but nothing worked. Acidic bile rushed up his throat; he tried to hold it down; somewhere in his mind realizing that vomiting while he was gagged would turn out very bad.

_Gibbs loomed over him still holding the knife, blood dripping from it onto the floor._

There was nothing he could do; he had virtually no control over his body. The vomit surged into his mouth but he couldn't expel it; pressing into the rubber he spluttered and choked as it ran back down his windpipe and scorched its way into his nose.

He was drowning, no longer able to think or breath, he couldn't even cough. He tried to swallow but there was too much bile; the taste and the smell had his stomach rolling again even as he struggled with the frothy substance currently filling his mouth. His stomach contracted again, forcing more liquid up and out of his stomach. Anything; he would do anything they asked if this would just stop.

Blackness ate at his vision, there was no oxygen entering his body, he was choking to death on his own puke.

The hands were back, pulling at the gag so his mouth opened and the vomit poured out onto his shirt and into his lap. The goggles were released and the headphones tugged loose; he continued to gasp and choke even after the straps holding him to the chair were released. Someone held him over the side of the chair so the rest of the liquid that had been trapped inside him poured out into the floor. His stomach clenched again and he wished that he would either pass out or die; he didn't care which.

He couldn't gulp air into his lungs fast enough.

Childers appeared in his hazy line of vision. The professor produced a cloth and wiped the vomit and tears from his face while he continued to cough and gasp. "Look at what you've done now, Tony," he chastised, as if speaking to a child. "You're a mess."

Tony stared at him desperately, unable to process what was happening. His raspy breathing filled the room. He shook without pause; his entire body felt like a live nerve ending ready to rip apart. "I…I don't know….why would Gibbs do that? I don't….I don't understand." For the moment his grip on reality had snapped and the world had turned upside down; he couldn't tell what was real and what was a dream manufactured by Childers. Had Gibbs actually done those things to him? It had looked and felt so real.

Through slits in his heavy-lidded eyes he gazed at the professor, who stroked his hair soothingly. "I'm cold…..I can't…..stop shaking," he whispered, before starting to cough again.

The doctor found a blanket and wrapped it around his shoulders. "Is that better?" he asked. Tony nodded at him without speaking.

After a few minutes they helped him back to the cell. No one bothered to clean him up or change his clothes; the stench followed him into the tiny room and clogged his nostrils. "Water," he asked, desperately wanting to wash the foul taste from his mouth. "Please, I need water." Coughing again, he clutched the professor's arm to keep from falling. The older man eased Tony into the floor and bent down beside him.

Childers shook his head. "I'm sorry, Tony, but not now. When you decide to listen, I'll bring you some water. Think about the way you've been behaving; it'll all be better when you listen and do what I ask. It's all up to you, Tony."

They left him covered in filth in the middle of the empty room. Tony eased himself the rest of the way to the cold tile floor, hopelessly grateful that Childers hadn't taken the blanket from him. He pulled it tight around his trembling body before letting the sweet oblivion of unconsciousness push away the details of the nightmare he was living.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

McGee's blood boiled. Staring at the computer screen he felt an indescribable frustration well up in him, scorching his veins until he shoved himself back from the desk. "Dammit, I'm sick and tired of this! Nothing! Three weeks and I've found absolutely nothing!"

Ziva looked up at his outburst, which seemed to be just beginning. "I'm a computer genius! I've hacked into the CIA, the FBI, the Department of Defense, you name it, I've hacked it! And after all that I can't find one single scrap of information on Childers or Tony! What in the hell is wrong with me?" In a moment of blind rage, the cyber-crimes specialist grabbed his computer monitor, lifted it up and slammed it back down on his desk, the screen shattering into a spider web pattern as various post-it notes, pens, pencils and a coffee mug were knocked from the desk.

He speechlessly stared at the destruction until he felt a soft hand on his shoulder. "It is alright, Tim. Everyone knows you have done all you can to find him."

They were all beyond the edges of physical exhaustion and mental fatigue. The team was working regular cases during the day and spending the wee hours of the night trying to locate Childers. So far their efforts had been fruitless.

Tim's shoulders sagged as the momentary rush of adrenaline left his body. "He would've found one of us, Ziva. Somehow, he would have figured out a way to get to us. He pulled Gibbs out of a lake and brought him back to life. He got me and Abby to find you by tracing Caf-Pow!" The young agent shook his head. "Tony always knows how to think out of the box, but I can't do that. All I can do is go through the motions I've learned and hope something turns up. But when that doesn't work, I don't know what else to do. I can't see things like he does." Tim turned his soft eyes to meet Ziva's. "He thinks he's not as smart as me, and I let him believe that. He's a lot smarter than we give him credit for, Ziva. I wish you could have seen him searching for you! It was brilliant. Why can't we do that for him?"

For a moment the former Israeli agent couldn't answer. She tried not to think very much about the time she had spent away from Washington DC; it was the easiest way to deal with the painful memories. They had told her it was Tony who developed the plan to go to Somalia, who tirelessly worked to secure her vengeance and ultimately her rescue. She knew that, and she had thanked him the best she could. In her heart, she realized there was no way to pay him back for what he had done for her, when even her own father had abandoned her to the hands of fate. So in the slight awkwardness that had developed between them she had done nothing.

She would give anything for another chance to say thank you, especially now that she knew what it was like to be the one left behind to wait and worry.

"Tony would not give up on us and we will not give up on him. We will get a break," she said, hoping to reassure them both.

Gibbs entered the bullpen, coffee in hand, stopping at the sight of the smashed computer tilting lopsidedly on McGee's desk.

"Accident?" he asked.

"I…I'm sorry, boss. There was no excuse for doing that; I'll pay to have it fixed. I'm just so fed up with not being able to do anything for Tony; I guess I kind of lost it."

The lead agent stalked over to McGee, who instinctively ducked in anticipation of the headslap. Instead, Gibbs patted the worn out man on the back. "Go home, Tim. You too, Ziva. Staying here round the clock isn't going to help anybody."

They stared at him, expressions desperate for some indication that their friend would come home soon and this would all be over. He smiled uncharacteristically. "We'll hit it hard again tomorrow." The two agents moved slowly to retrieve their belongings and head wearily for the elevator. "Hey," he called. They turned at his now grumpy tone. "I expect you both here early. Not a minute later than 0600." He hoped his grouchiness added some normality to the moment.

"Gotcha, boss," McGee answered. Ziva smiled sadly as they left.

Standing in the silence, Gibbs wandered over to Tony's desk. He sat down behind it, taking inventory of the things that were so typically Tony; the Mighty Mouse stapler, a rolodex of names that were mostly women, Clowny Cakes in a drawer, a stack of GSM magazines, a cup with a toothbrush stuck inside. It could never be said that his senior field agent lacked personality. Gibbs balled up a piece of paper and shot it into the trash can next to McGee's desk, DiNozzo style. Memories of his friend's laughter echoed through his ears.

The silver-haired man picked up his coffee and headed down to the lab; he could hear Abby's sobs before he got to the door. Watching her back shudder up and down left him heart-broken. He walked up to her and gently rubbed her shoulders; after a few minutes she turned and buried her face in his chest until her tears dried up enough to speak.

"I want to do something to help, but there's nothing I can do. There's no evidence to process, nothing to run through major-mass-spec, nothing I can do except sit here and wait. What are they doing to him, Gibbs? It's been so long!" She let go of his neck and twisted her hands frantically, black streaks of mascara covering her porcelain skin. "Tony needs us; he can't be away this long with no contact. He needs you to headslap him, and McGee to harass him, and Ziva to tease him. He…he can't be alone." Gibbs held out his arms and waited for her to wrap herself around him again. "I miss him so much," she whispered.

"Me too, Abs. Me too."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

After the fourth week with no leads, the entire team was ready to snap. They went through the motions of work, running on autopilot, coming alive only in the moments when they were searching for their missing friend.

Gibbs' ringing cell phone broke the morbid silence of the bullpen; the ex-marine raised his eyebrows at the name on the caller id. "Gibbs," he answered tersely.

"I've got something. Meet me in the park." Both men hung up without another word.

With an energy that had been lacking recently, he hurried to the elevator.

Ziva and McGee watched his departure. "Do you think he is hot on the tail of something?" the Israeli asked her partner.

McGee couldn't help but smile at what Tony would have done with that twisted American idiom. "It's trail, Ziva. Hot on the trail, and I really, really hope so."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Seems your Professor Childers has stirred up quite a bit of trouble." Trent Kort popped an almond in his mouth. "He has a lot of people in the agency angry at him."

"He isn't winning any popularity contests on my side of DC either. What's going on?"

"When the funding and support for his project were cut it didn't sit too well with him. Since then he's been courting buyers of his methods from other countries and he isn't concerned if they are friendly to the US or not. His bottom line is making money and continuing the research. He's gone rogue; when he disappeared with DiNozzo he completely dropped off the radar."

Gibbs took a handful of almonds and crunched them; it was probably the closest he was going to come to lunch today. "So what's the CIA going to do about him?"

"They want him located and stopped before he establishes a buyer."

Gibbs smiled and his blue eyes flashed. "I guess you turned out to be the perfect man for the job."

The edges of Kort's mouth turned up slightly. "Fortuitous for me that I was already looking into the illustrious professor. Giving me the assignment only made sense."

"So do you have anything yet?" Gibbs attempted to keep his voice neutral, trying not to reveal the pounding of his heart at the possibility of finding Tony.

"What kind of spook would I be if I couldn't locate one over-zealous and somewhat deranged academic? Of course I've found him."

"Where?"

"Upstate New York. He's established quite a fortified compound up there. The professor's got a potential client coming in next week; I need to shut him down before they make contact." Kort turned his head to look directly into the steel blue eyes. "I'm putting together a small team to take out Childers and his facility. If DiNozzo's there, I won't have time to devote to getting him out safely." He paused, noting the slight flare of Gibbs' nostrils that was the only give-away of the older man's increased heart rate. "You want to come along?"

Gibbs grinned and shoved another handful of almonds in his mouth. Mutual enemies made strange bedfellows; he didn't trust Kort, never would, but the agent was proving to be a more advantageous ally than enemy.

"We'll tag along for the ride."

Kort nodded.

"Thanks," Gibbs added.

The balding agent stood and handed Gibbs the rest of the bag of almonds. "Take them. You look like you could use something in your system besides adrenaline and caffeine. I'll bring by some intel tonight so you'll know more about what you're getting into." He tilted his head curiously. "There must be something about DiNozzo I don't get for so many of you to risk your lives for him without a second thought. He's a lucky man."

Kort turned and walked away.

Gibbs ate another almond, wishing he had some water to wash it down. Lucky didn't seem to be the right word to describe Tony right now, since Gibbs was fairly certain Kort wouldn't want to trade places with whatever was happening to his senior field agent.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The team gathered in the conference room, Kort's information spread out before them. Now that McGee knew the location of Childers' current base of operations, he pulled up everything he could find, including floor plans of the main building and satellite imagery of the grounds.

Kort's documents indicated that Childers was maintaining the facility with a skeleton crew of personnel, including himself, Andrew, several doctors and nurses, a groundskeeper, and a cook. The most concerning aspect were the security measures in place; Childers had spared no expense in this area. There were at least ten guards patrolling the house and grounds at all times; the guards were all former Special Forces members with no moral objection to killing. The compound was surrounded by an electric fence that would have to be deactivated. A variety of electronic security devices and surveillance systems were employed inside the house. Kort planned to bring himself, two other agents, and a demolitions expert in addition to Gibbs, McGee, and David. The plan was to get inside, capture Childers, and bring Tony out as quickly as possible so as not to alert local authorities prior to destroying the building.

Vance leaned back in his chair and switched the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the other. "Are you ready for this? You'll have no back-up and this op will not be sanctioned by our office. If it goes down bad, there will be no help for you. Can you deal with that?"

Gibbs didn't respond, but gazed at his agents to let them decide for themselves. Ziva spoke up almost immediately. "I have been on many such missions over the years; at least this one is to save the life of a friend. I am prepared to face any repercussions."

Knowing what she had endured in Somalia, no one in the room doubted her convictions.

McGee, on the other hand, had far less experience in these types of operations. His eyes scanned the room at the faces waiting for his response. "I'm in, too. Tony wouldn't hesitate to do the same thing for me. If something goes wrong, I'll be alright."

Vance nodded. "So when does this happen?"

"Day after tomorrow," Gibbs said. The lead agent was glad they finally had it down to a place and a time, but waiting even two more days…Tony could go through a lot in 48 hours. He thinned his lips and hoped that DiNozzo was holding fast to his side of the promise, and refused to give up.

The Director stopped Gibbs at the door after everyone else had filed out. "Kort says the agency wants Childers alive; his information is that important to them. You got any problems with that stipulation, Agent Gibbs?"

The cold blue eyes of the lead agent revealed nothing. "I've got no problems, Leon. I'm just along to make sure Tony gets back safely."

Vance watched Gibbs trot down the stairs toward his desk. The Director's eyes lingered on Tony's empty chair. He stuck a toothpick between his teeth and smiled, confident that the team leader would take care of the situation exactly as it should be.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony wasn't sure how long it had been since he'd left this room. Each session with Childers was more extreme than the last, and always focused in some way on Gibbs hurting the senior field agent. He had seen so many images of Gibbs taunting, maiming, and killing him that he feared the scenes were burned into his retinas.

They were preparing for the visit of a potential buyer for Childers' mind control process; Tony was supposed to be the highlight of the tour. He was the live lab rat that sealed the deal. During a previous outing, however, DiNozzo had managed to reserve enough strength to elbow the professor in the eye before he passed out, which he doubted would have been very convincing that he was sufficiently under control. Childers had been intensely pissed; after that Tony had been left in the tiny room with almost no contact and very little food or water.

Resisting Childers' efforts to brainwash him this time hadn't been as easy as he'd hoped, but Tony had managed. When the professor strapped him in the chair Tony sang songs, recited poetry, recalled plots of the hundreds of movies he'd watched. The most difficult times were when Childers shot him full of his special concoction of drugs and used some type of electrode to stimulate the implant behind his ear; often Tony would return to awareness screaming, or having deep conversations with people who weren't there. Childers seemed to enjoy gagging him, forcing him to moan quietly while they bombarded his mind with hour after hour of pictures and sounds. He knew that sometimes he vomited and lost control of his bodily functions. It was highly embarrassing, but something he couldn't control, so he tried to not let it bother him too much.

But in many of those moments he could feel himself slipping away, his resistance waning. There had been a few days he spent tucked in the corner of the room convinced that Gibbs, Childers, and everyone else he knew was trying to kill him. There were other times when he realized he could remember nothing about hours, or even days, on end. He had to work extremely hard to hold on to the fact that little of what he experienced was real. It was all one epic movie with a very bad plot.

His main goal was to hold on to his mind until Gibbs came for him; however, he realized that if this continued much longer he would eventually succumb to the constant assault. He was better prepared than the first time Childers had abducted him, but no one could withstand this barrage forever.

His physical deterioration had actually proven to be an advantage. After the first few days Childers had starved him as a punishment, Tony observed that the doctor was less aggressive with the drugs and brain washing sessions. So Tony had actively stopped eating; he knew it was a dangerous game, since he was betting his life that Gibbs would show up before he actually shriveled away and died, but at least it got the professor to back off some and bought him a small reprieve.

Childers had grown increasingly afraid to drug him too much or work with him too long because his heart might stop due to the extra stress it was under. He had developed an incessant cough that was rattling his chest on a regular basis. In order to build his strength back, they had started to feed him small amounts again, and were even threatening to force food into him. The problem was at this point he couldn't make himself eat. He wasn't hungry anymore; at first he'd thought constantly of steak and pizza and chocolate, but now the idea of food wasn't slightly appealing. He didn't think if there had been a plate of lasagna and a glass of wine on the far side of the room he would have had the energy or desire to crawl over to it; he honestly doubted he would've possessed the strength to lift a fork. It was a lethargy beyond anything he'd ever experienced. His skin felt drawn tight over his frame like a drum and his muscles ached dully every time he even attempted to move, so he only shifted position when necessary.

Time was once again lost for him; he honestly had no idea how long it had been since he left the cabin in Virginia. All he knew was he had to hang on, because Gibbs would be royally ticked if DiNozzo let himself die before the ex-marine found him.

He groaned when the door opened and several men swarmed inside. He needed to resist them, but physically he didn't have much left. Somehow though, he had to prevent them from taking him back to Childers' lab. Fortunately, he still possessed his finest asset, the one for which he was most well-known; his smart-assed mouth, which he coupled with a very bad plan to irritate Childers as much as possible. A good beating should keep him out of Childers' chair for at the very least a few more days. As he was hauled from the floor, he drawled, "Watch where you're touching boys, I usually don't go that far on a first date."

"Shut up, DiNozzo, I'm not in the mood for your running commentary," the muscular guard stated.

"Well I'm not in the mood for looking at your ugly face again today. Why don't you just go the hell away and get your hands off of me."

"Maybe because if we let go you'd end up face-planting in the floor."

"Still fighting, Tony?" Childers asked, walking into the room, Andrew trailing behind him. "I thought you might have seen the error of your ways and decided to take a more recalcitrant approach today."

"I thought you might have realized I'm not buying it this time. I've built up an immunity to your bullshit," DiNozzo countered.

"Hmmm. You know there is someone very important coming to see me soon; I really would like to have secured your obedience by then. You have proven yourself extremely willful. Let's try a different punishment and see how you feel about it."

He indicated for Andrew to step forward. Tony couldn't quite figure out what the younger man held in his hand as he moved behind the federal agent. He tried to turn his head to see, a swarm of butterflies suddenly invading his nervous stomach.

"You're a vain individual, Anthony, and I've decided that you need to let go of some of that vanity; perhaps learn some humility. Maybe this will help."

Tony could hear a soft but familiar buzzing noise that he couldn't place; he jumped, tugging the hands of his captors at the feel of something tingling on the back of his head. "What are you doing?" He felt the tingle spread across his scalp before he suddenly realized what was happening. "Stop! Why…why are you doing this?"

He twisted around, watching numbly as his light brown hair floated around him into the floor. Cold air blew on his scalp as he was quickly and efficiently shaved bald. The action shouldn't have bothered him; it was only hair after all, but it was his hair and Childers was right—the vain part of him loved it. Watching it drop away made him feel vulnerable and exposed.

Tony was trembling as the professor bent close to him, using a finger to trace the now clearly visible scar behind his ear. Tony winced at the touch. "I'm doing this to prove that you have absolutely no control here, Tony. I will do to you whatever I want and you cannot stop me. I am your king and master; I decide when you eat, drink, sleep, even take a piss. If you do what I want, you will be rewarded. If you continue to refuse, there will be consequences. You have to decide which path to choose."

Tony stood stock still for a minute, before summoning his miniscule reserve of strength. With his last remaining saliva, he spit in Childers' face.

The professor angrily wiped off the gobs of foamy white and pointed at the guards. "Teach him that he is not to behave with so much disrespect."

Guard A nodded to guard B, who shifted around to hold Tony firmly by the arms. Well placed blows rained down on the weakened agent's torso; DiNozzo grunted in response. A scream tore from his lips as he felt the well-known snap of ribs, another when his kidney decided to alert him that it could be injured, too. Tony welcomed the agony, knowing the end would justify the means.

Childers observed the beating impassively, never saying a word until Tony's cries had settled down to mere whimpers and it was obvious the younger man was no longer capable of conscious thought.

"Stop," the professor finally ordered, shoving his anger aside when he could see they were on the verge of going too far. "I don't want you to kill him."

Tony was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, forcing another soft cry to emerge from his dry and cracked lips.

Childers and the others quietly left the room; Tony lay where he fell, hovering in a state of semi-consciousness, both aware and unaware of his surroundings, the dull edges of pain settling on him like a rough blanket.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The glass he was holding slipped from his fingers and thumped loudly on the floor as Gibbs bolted upright from where he had drifted to sleep on the sofa. For the first time since Childers had abducted Tony, he could feel the younger man slipping away. He couldn't explain how he knew, but his gut was screaming that something had changed, something was wrong, and Tony didn't have much longer. Gibbs stood and walked to the window, listening to the chirp of crickets and buzzing of locusts.

"Don't you dare give up on me," he said, despite the fact no one was around to hear. "You hang in there, DiNozzo. I'm coming."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

A pair of sensible shoes appeared in Tony's line of vision. He considered smiling, but his lips refused to move. The section of his brain still mired in reality knew that no one was there, but the part of his mind that required comforting didn't care. He would have sworn he could feel the calloused hand run along his newly shaved head as Gibbs knelt beside him.

_"Hang in there, DiNozzo. I'm coming."_

The whispered response was barely audible. "I know, boss. I know."


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: I think the torture in the last chapter left some of you questioning my sanity! I usually don't go that extreme, but it seemed appropriate for Childers' methods. In this chapter, the rescue and the showdown. But can Tony resist what Childers has programmed him to do? As always, forgive any mistakes with technology or medical information; I google the best I can!**

**Thanks, thanks, thanks, for your support. I've been really busy lately, so you're encouragement has been essential to keep me motivated. **

**I'm always looking forward to more comments! Just ignore it if my replies don't make sense; sometimes I'm half-asleep!**

**TLH**

"Well, Mr. Palmer, I think we're finished with our unfortunate marine," Ducky said, removing his gloves. "I'll let you close him up and we can report to the team that this sailor died of natural causes instead of murder. I'm sure they'll be glad to not have to spend any more time investigating his demise."

Palmer tilted his head thoughtfully, starting to speak then stopping before finally plunging ahead. "Gibbs and the team are planning something, aren't they Dr. Mallard? I've seen them whispering, picked up on a few comments. It has to do with Tony, doesn't it?" The skinny assistant paused. "I know you can't say much, but can you at least tell me if they've found him?" Palmer gazed directly into Ducky's blue eyes. "He's my friend, too, and I believe I have a right to know."

The doctor appraised the younger man but didn't immediately answer.

"Ok," Palmer amended nervously. "Maybe not a right to know. But a need to know! I'm really worried about Tony, too, and I just want to be kept informed."

Dr. Mallard turned around and placed his instruments on a table, considering what to tell the younger man. It was true that Jimmy and Anthony had become close over the years, and it was unfair to leave him completely in the dark regarding the fact that Tony had been located.

"Gibbs has discovered where Childers has been keeping Tony. He's taking Ziva and McGee to try and rescue him tomorrow night."

Palmer visibly sighed. "That's a relief. If Agent Gibbs is going to get him, I have every confidence he'll be ok."

Ducky smiled at his assistant's faith in the team leader. At that moment the object Jimmy's allegiance and their conversation entered the autopsy lab. Gibbs walked next to the dead body and stood rigidly. "Palmer," he said.

"Hello, Agent Gibbs." Jimmy smiled for several seconds while Ducky watched him patiently, before Palmer finally realized they were waiting for him to leave.

"Uh, I think I need to go see Abby. So, I'll just…go see Abby." He moved toward the door with a little wave at them before nearly tripping over his feet as he turned to head for the elevator.

"He really is a good lad, just a tad eccentric at times," Ducky said with a shake of his head.

Gibbs smiled and lifted his eyebrow.

Ducky chuckled absently. "What can I do for you, Jethro? Since our current case has turned out to not be a crime, I can't imagine you're here with questions about this particular fellow." He gestured at the corpse currently occupying the autopsy table.

"I had some questions about DiNozzo," Gibbs stated bluntly.

Ducky walked over to the shelves and moved around some supplies, finding a bottle and two coffee mugs hidden in the back. He gestured for Gibbs to sit. "It's scotch, but I believe it will suffice in a pinch." He poured them both drinks and sat down. "What is it you want to discuss about Anthony?"

Gibbs swirled the liquid in the cup. "What should I expect when we find him? He's been with that man for nearly five weeks and he was screwed up before in just two. I want to be prepared so we can help him."

Ducky leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. "I've been doing some digging on Childers; I've actually pulled everything I can find including all his research articles and journal publications. It has given me some insight into the techniques he prefers."

"I'm listening," Gibbs prompted when the doctor hesitated.

"Childers' methods rely heavily on his combination of drugs and the implant he has developed. It's a magnet that he affixes to the brain in an area that has been proven to control patterns of behavior. The magnet itself makes the subject far more susceptible to suggestion than otherwise; his theory is that electrical stimulation increases the susceptibility even more." The ME stood and flipped on the light behind one of the x-rays. "This image actually belongs to Tony; since Childers was in charge of his treatment I wasn't privy to viewing the films before." Using a pen he pointed to a small black dot on the film. "As you can see, the device is quite evident."

Gibbs grimaced at the tiny, round object resting inside Tony's head. All those days his friend was suffering because of this and none of them ever knew.

"This apparatus, along with a variety of drugs including hallucinogens, will make it very difficult for Anthony to hold on to his own thought processes. I really can't predict how it will have affected our young man; much of that depends on Anthony himself."

Gibbs took a drink of scotch and frowned, much preferring the beverages hidden on the shelves in his basement. "So it's possible that no matter how much he fights it, he could still be under Childers' control. If that's the case it might be difficult to get him out of there."

"You will need to be extremely cautious. It could very well be that Tony himself won't realize what has happened to him and could appear to be perfectly fine one minute and unable to control his own actions the next. And I wouldn't be surprised if the professor has continued to use you as the object of Tony's programming. Considering that Childers is one of the most arrogant men I've ever encountered, I speculate that he would consider getting Tony to attack you as a personal challenge." The ME sat back down and took a sip of his scotch. "I'll send a sedative with you in case Tony proves to be in a highly uncooperative state. I'll also have staff at Bethesda prepped and ready for his arrival. We need to get that device out of him as quickly as possible; at the very least I'm sure that's the source of his excruciating headaches and seizures; beyond that we have no way to foresee any long-term complications."

Gibbs nodded. "Ok."

Ducky took another drink. "There are other considerations."

"Such as?"

"The professor has written extensively on the topic of torture as a means of further establishing control over the victim. There is a distinct possibility Tony might not be in good physical condition; he could have been starved, beaten, restrained, or any other number of issues. I would also be prepared that Childers has in some way tried to humiliate him, through controlling bathroom privileges, the ability to clean himself, or anything involving his basic personal care needs. I'm sorry to have to bring this up, but I don't want you to be shocked."

Gibbs drained the rest of the scotch. "I've seen torture before."

"Yes, but never involving Tony. Even what Ziva went through in Somalia, I suppose we have a certain expectation for our lovely Mossad assassin to be in such situations, as unfair as that might be. But Tony? It's only on rare occasions the young man lets us see him without hair gel. Childers will more than likely have attempted to destroy anything that makes Tony feel strong and capable of taking care of himself. It is not that I don't believe Tony able to withstand the professor's techniques; we both know he has an inner strength that is easy to underestimate. I just want you to realize that he might not be his normal self; it could be difficult for you both. I doubt he will be in any shape to keep up his usual masks."

"Is there anything I can do?" Gibbs asked softly.

"I'll help you pack some things to take for him, just in case. Blankets, clothes, water, basic first aid. Hopefully, you won't need them, but it's best to be ready for anything." Ducky finished his scotch and smiled sadly. "I believe simply having you there will be the best medicine we can provide."

The blue eyed man took a steadying breath and nodded.

"Jethro," Ducky approached cautiously. "Have you considered the possibility that Tony….."

"He's alive, Duck. I'd know if he wasn't." He pushed the mug back toward the ME and stood. "Thanks."

The elderly physician poured another drink, saying a silent prayer that their friend would indeed be alright.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Childers frowned and sipped tea from a paper cup; he watched the monitor as the two guards finished stripping DiNozzo and tossed his nude body back in the floor. The federal agent said something to them which resulted in the guards kicking him a few times. DiNozzo curled up in a tight ball trying to ward off some of the attack. After they left, he raised up on an elbow and vomited a small amount of stringy yellow bile before collapsing again. He crossed his arms tightly across his chest and coughed.

Andrew entered the security room. "Do you want me to prepare for another session?"

"No, not right now. He's far too weak and showing some signs of internal injuries. He'll more than likely die if we continue." The professor crushed his cup and threw it in the trash. "We were getting close! Another week or so and he would've done anything I said. I can use this to our advantage, though." Childers observed as the younger man shifted position and tried to sit up but failed. Tony eventually rolled over and slowly crawled toward the corner, making it a few feet before his limbs gave out and he hit the floor once more, this time not moving.

"He already needs medical attention. When he's suffered long enough, he'll see me as his savior. It will work to our benefit in the long run. We have the videos to show our buyer, they should suffice."

"What if the client demands a demonstration?" Andrew questioned.

"If it comes down to it, we'll give him what he wants. Considering how much effort I've invested, I'd like to keep DiNozzo around, but ultimately he's expendable. If our buyer wants to see the technique in action, Tony is just going to have to take one for the team." The professor paused and stared at the image on the screen. Playing god to someone else was an unbelievable rush. "I'm going in to see him for a few minutes."

Andrew gazed at the unmoving man on the screen and wondered just how short any demonstration DiNozzo was involved in might be.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony knew someone was in the room with him. Somewhere in his mind he hoped it was Gibbs; he opened his eyes to see if the lead agent was finally there.

"Hello, Tony," Childers said.

Disappointment washed over him. It was probably unrealistic to think Gibbs was just going to show up. But he wanted it so badly; he wanted to know that he wasn't forgotten. He had told Gibbs he wouldn't give up, but it had been so long he was beginning to think he might never get back home.

"Are you ready to let me help you, Tony? Just say the word and I'll take you out of here. You can have a warm bed, clean clothes, and water whenever you want it. We'll treat your injuries so you aren't in any more pain. All you have to do is agree to trust me and do what I say. It's so easy if you just let yourself."

Tony thought about it. A bed; water; no pain; it sounded like Christmas and his birthday and every other holiday he ever loved. But what would he be giving up if he took Childers' offer? What would he have left of himself?

"Gibbs…..is coming….." he whispered and closed his eyes.

"How long have you waited, Tony? Think about everything I've shown you. He lied about needing you and he's probably already found a replacement. Give up, Tony, it's time."

Tony coughed and shivered as the cold air coursed over his exposed skin. He wouldn't give up; he couldn't. Knowing Gibbs would find him was all that had kept him going up until now. He wouldn't let that go regardless of what it cost him.

"No," he said softly. "No…..I…..I don't believe you." He coughed again and tried to hold still against the fingers of pain that invaded him whenever he moved.

Childers stood still for a few minutes. "I almost admire your faith in him, no matter how misguided it might be. But he isn't coming. Now you have to decide; you either live by my rules of die by his. It's your choice."

Tony had followed Gibbs' rules too long to stop, even now. "He never…" he stopped and swallowed, tried again. "He never leaves…..a man behind."

"Fine, Tony. Let's see if you change your mind after a few more days like this. We'll talk again later."

Tony watched him leave, vaguely wondering if he had signed his own death warrant. If it took Gibbs much longer to get him out, he wasn't entirely sure what he would do the next time Childers came with his offer of salvation. Coughing again, he rocked until the sharp pain from his ribs subsided. He was going to have to pick between the death of his body or the death of his soul and he was losing sight of which one mattered to him more.

Leaving Tony alone, Childers walked down the hall. Maybe DiNozzo was right; Gibbs might actually come for him. His security team was on alert just in case. If the old marine decided to try a rescue attempt, they would be prepared. Tony belonged to him now, and the professor had no intention of giving him back.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Are you ready?" McGee checked the earwig again and adjusted his Sig. He bent to ensure that his back-up was still strapped in place at his ankle. He was wearing black pants, a black shirt, and a black knit cap.

"I believe so," Ziva replied. Her long hair was pulled up into a tight bun, her lean body outfitted in snug black pants and a tight fitting black top. She, too, had her Sig and back-up, along with several knives strapped to various discrete locations on her body. "Are you nervous?" she asked.

McGee considered lying, but changed his mind. "A little. I've never done anything like this before; even when we rescued you it was different." He paused to see if his comment upset her. When she revealed no reaction, he continued. "If I screw up I'm risking Tony's life. Maybe Gibbs should have taken someone else."

Ziva patted his arm. "No, Tim, you are the right person. You care about Tony, which means you are much better than some stranger who does not even know him. You will do fine."

"Thanks, Ziva," he replied, grateful for the encouragement.

Abby, Ducky, and Palmer entered the bullpen. "Cool outfits," the Goth observed, grinning slightly at the totally black ensembles the two agents were wearing. "You look like spies."

"Just wait until Tony sees you; I'm betting on a Mission Impossible reference," Palmer added affectionately.

"We came to wish you luck," Ducky stated. "What you are doing for Tony is very brave."

Ziva's eyes flashed darkly. "It is nothing Tony has not already done for me. I am only glad to be able to return the favor." She briefly saw Tony tied to the chair in front of her when the hood had been removed from her face in Somalia. It was a moment indelibly imprinted in her mind. She might never say it out loud, but she was indebted to him forever.

Vance and Gibbs came down the stairs from MTAC. "Kort is waiting; it's time for you to get this show on the road," the Director informed them.

Abby ran up to Gibbs and gave him a hug and a kiss. "Be careful, bossman. And bring my Tony back home."

"You got it, Abs," he kissed the top of her head. "Let's go."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The blades of the military helicopter reverberated loudly in the chilly night air, the constant thuds sending shudders through their bodies as they sat silently waiting to touch down. McGee observed Trent Kort and the members of his team. The CIA operative stared straight ahead impassively, barely blinking, his face an expressionless mask. He could have easily been on his way to visit his grandparents rather than on a mission to break into a heavily guarded secret compound. His two companions were equally collected; a tall, muscular blonde woman who had merely grunted at their introductions and a short, squat well-built man who appeared as tightly wound as a spring sat on either side of the CIA agent. The demolitions expert was a lanky man with brown, curly hair and wire-rimmed glasses, who had closed his eyes and fallen asleep as soon as they settled into the chopper. None of them made any effort at small talk, but were all business.

McGee was comforted by their serious attitudes. He hoped he wasn't the weak link in the group and if it came down to it he could live up to whatever he needed to do. Watching out the window, it occurred to him that Tony had taught him well. He rarely acknowledged that it was for the most part DiNozzo who had brought him along as a federal agent, encouraging him to improve in his own weird and quirky way. Without Tony pushing and prodding him at every turn he probably would have never made it in the field. The older agent's style was unconventional, but somehow it worked. He owed Tony a lot, and he hoped he got a chance to tell him that.

The helicopter began its descent, lowering into a clearing several miles away from Childers' base. The agents swiftly left the transport, grabbing their gear and setting off at a slow jog. They arrived at the fence a short time later, warily approaching the perimeter fully aware of the electricity coursing through the razor topped wires.

McGee watched as the woman brought a coil of black wire from her pack and handed one end of a set of clips to the squatty agent. They approached the fence. "On one," she said and counted down; simultaneously they attached the clips to the fence several meters apart and stepped back.

"What are you doing?" Ziva asked.

Kort spoke up. "It's a device that circumvents the electrical current but allows the remainder of the fence to continue operating. It shouldn't alert any of their security devices that a section of the fence is out."

The short agent was already cutting the fence apart creating a hole wide enough for a person to crawl through.

_The CIA has the coolest toys_, McGee thought. "What if one of the clips gets dislodged while we're inside?" he asked.

Kort grinned. "You ever play the game Operation when you were a kid? Well, it'll be like that…you better not touch any part of the fence or you're going to get quite a shock."

The junior agent swallowed, his adam's apple visibly moving up and down.

The small group carefully slipped through the newly cut hole, handing their backpacks through one at a time.

Staying in the shadows, they made their way toward the house. A few meters from their destination, Gibbs raised his hand signaling for them to stop. A security guard walked into view.

McGee didn't move as Kort stepped behind the guard without making a sound; in one swift and lethal move the agent wrapped his arm around the man's neck, immediately rendering him speechless. The guard struggled while Kort continued to apply pressure until the man lost the battle to stay conscious and passed out. Gibbs moved in and secured the guard's hands and feet with zip-ties and covered his mouth with tape. He and Kort shoved the unconscious man under a bush and out of sight. It was over in the space of a few seconds. The duo acknowledged each other with a quick look before heading toward the main house again.

Arriving at the edge of the large structure, Kort nodded at the demolitions expert; the other man trotted off around the corner to start placing his charges. Kort faced them, "We have about twenty minutes until this place is ready to blow. Everyone knows their assignments; if you encounter any staff or guards eliminate them as quietly as possible. We want to keep our presence undetected as long as we can."

Silent nods indicated their understanding.

"Alright, then. Stay in communication." As they moved to enter the building, Kort grasped Gibbs' arm. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do. Remember, the agency wants Childers alive."

"Thanks for leaving me with so many options," Gibbs replied, his blue eyes revealing nothing of his intentions.

The group split apart; Kort and his two agents went down one hall, McGee and Ziva a second, and Gibbs moved straight ahead.

The interior of the house was more like a medical facility than a home. The hallways were pristine white and cold. McGee shivered as he followed Ziva, who had her weapon drawn and was hugging the walls as she quietly ran down the corridor. She moved without thinking, having memorized the floor plan and the location of the security center at the heart of the structure. He could feel sweat beading on his upper lip; he hoped they didn't encounter anyone before they reached their destination.

After several turns down long and empty hallways, they arrived at the door he hoped led to the room they sought. Carefully turning the handle, Ziva ducked inside, weapon pointed in front of her. McGee followed, sighing in relief when he saw rows of small screens and computer terminals, but no people. He shut and locked the door behind him.

The earwig squawked. "This is Gibbs. I'm outside the room where I think they're holding Tony, but it's sealed with a keypad entry. Can you get me inside?"

"Hold on, boss," McGee answered. "We just found the security center. Let me figure out where you're at."

Ziva was already staring at the screens, her body stiff; he could see her chest rising and falling in deep, rapid breaths. He followed her gaze to a monitor that was focused on an unmoving body lying on the floor of a barren, grey room, the man's face turned toward the wall. The resolution of the image was grainy; it was impossible to tell if the person was breathing.

"Is that…"

"It is Tony," she replied briskly.

"Is he….alive?"

"I cannot tell. We have to let Gibbs inside."

They frantically searched for a panel that controlled the doors. "I found something," McGee said, sitting down in a chair and pulling himself up to a row of buttons. "What is the number of that monitor?" he asked. Ziva read it out; McGee pushed several controls.

"You got it, Tim. The door's opening," Gibbs barked over the earwig.

"Yes," McGee whispered. "We're coming to get you, Tony."

"We have a problem," Ziva stated icily. He turned to look at the other monitors. Several guards were already engaged in gunfire with Kort and his agents. Two more guards were moving steadily down a hallway toward a closed door that McGee recognized. He watched as they stopped on the other side of the room they were now trapped inside.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Trent Kort leaned around a corner and squeezed off a shot, pulling back when he saw one of the guards return fire. They had walked straight into Childers' assistant, who had turned and run screaming back down the hallway before they had a chance to stop him. Their pursuit of him led to a large living area where Andrew, Childers, and several of his security detail were now taking cover and holding them off with a barrage of gunfire.

The CIA operative observed Childers take aim and shoot; he watched as his female agent gasped and fell backward, blood blossoming across her chest. "Dammit," he said under his breath, hating to see any of his team members die, even if it was a constant danger during any mission. He pressed forward again, hoping to catch Childers and possibly put his own bullet in the older man. Instead, he saw the professor disappearing out a doorway toward the interior sections of the complex.

"Childers is on the move," he reported to Gibbs. "We're pinned down in the front of the house. Do you have DiNozzo?"

"I'm going in now," Gibbs responded. "I'll watch for Childers."

Kort aimed at a guard and felt a small amount of satisfaction when his round found its mark and the man went down. He wasn't going to stay here and let Gibbs have all the fun.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The silver metal door slid back opening the interior of the room for Gibbs' entry. The agent stepped through, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light and chilled air.

The space was completely empty except for the prone figure on the far side of the room. He hesitated, the foul smell of vomit and bodily fluids assaulting his senses despite the frigid temperature. For a moment he thought he might add his own stomach contents to the putrid environment; the condition of the body in front of him increased his uncharacteristic sense of nausea.

A part of his mind couldn't accept that he was looking at Tony lying on his side in the floor, completely naked. Gibbs could count every rib protruding from his back, the bony contours of his skeleton pushing through his pale and darkly bruised skin. His thin legs were crossed on top of each other, his head resting on one arm while the other arm was tossed over his eyes. The spiky brown hair that he normally groomed with the meticulous care of a top-notch surgeon was gone; he was completely bald. There was a small puddle of liquid a few feet from where he lay; it was impossible to identify whether the foul-smelling yellowish-brown pool was urine or vomit.

Seeing Tony like this sent a rage through him that was nearly uncontrollable. The younger man was, for all intents and purposes, his de-facto son, at least as close as he could come without Gibbs own blood coursing through Tony's veins. That Childers had done this to him, left him completely devoid of anything _Tony_…the man deserved to die.

For a few seconds Gibbs strained to see if DiNozzo was breathing; he approached his agent cautiously, finally observing a slight movement of his back indicating a shallow intake of oxygen. Fear pulsed through him; Tony still hadn't moved or shown any sign that he was aware of his presence. He knelt down next to DiNozzo, carefully placing his hand on the paper thin back, suppressing a shudder at the rough feel of bone against his skin.

"Tony. Tony can you hear me?"

There was no response. He wasn't sure what to do next. Tony looked so unnaturally fragile, literally ready to break at the slightest change of position. But Gibbs couldn't wait; every minute lost was a minute that might prevent them from getting out of here. Gently he placed a hand under Tony's stubble-covered scalp; with as much care as possible he rolled Tony toward him.

DiNozzo gasped, a pain-filled cry that was punctuated by a series of short, labored breaths and his entire frame shaking. Gibbs pushed back the compassion he felt for his agent and waited for the reaction to cease before pressing on. It was the same fortitude that had helped him get out of Kuwait with himself and most of his men alive; he was certainly not leaving this place without his partner and friend. "Tony, it's Gibbs. You have to wake up. I've come to take you out of here."

He could see Tony's eyes shifting under his shadowed and sunken eyelids. The black lashes fluttered and blinked a few times before settling down again; a small sound escaped his cracked and peeling lips. "Dammit, DiNozzo, open your eyes. That's an order."

The eyelids batted again, finally cracking open to reveal a sliver of green. He saw Tony's throat move as he tried to swallow and his mouth struggle to form a word. Gibbs cradled his head firmly in his hand like he did Kelly's when she was a newborn baby. "Take it easy. Don't try to talk."

Tony forced his eyes open farther. "A…..bout time…..you got…..here," he finally croaked.

Gibbs smiled at him warmly. "You could start out with a thank you."

Tony's eyes blinked again and slowly began to close. _Gibbs is here. Maybe it's another dream, but that's ok; it's a good one, so I'll go along with it._

"You gotta stay awake, Tony. We're going to go now."

Tony flinched momentarily at the memory of Gibbs stabbing him, the blade driving into his flesh and muscle all the way to the hilt. _That didn't really happen, _he reminded himself. _Gibbs would never hurt me._

Continuing to hold Tony's head, the older man snatched the backpack with his other hand and tugged a blanket out so he could use it as a pillow. Tony moved his own hand across his waist protectively.

"Ribs?" the ex-gunny asked.

Tony looked toward his voice, trying to get his eyes to focus. "Br….oken."

"How long?" Gibbs asked.

A small shake of the head was his only answer. Another tremor raced along Tony's body. His skin was icy cold to the touch; it was as if his body possessed absolutely no heat.

Gibbs found a pair of sweats in the bag. "I'm going to help you put some clothes on. You're going to have to move and it's probably going to hurt. You ready for that?"

"Go…..ahead," Tony whispered. _Pain meant this was real. Gibbs is really here. This isn't just a fantasy. _

The former marine picked up Tony's feet and threaded them into the soft pants. He tried to ignore the continued shallow breathing and muffled gasps as he jostled the younger man's body in order to get him dressed. When he had to lift Tony's bony hips to pull the sweats over them his friend cried out loudly and his already slight breathing sped up even more. Gibbs resolutely finished the task and tied the waistband, noting the hard, distended surface of DiNozzo's belly beneath his fingertips. He filed that disturbing piece of information away for later since there was nothing he could do about it now.

"I'm done. You still with me?" Tony was shivering, but the pain appeared to have brought him more fully awake. _Gibbs was holding a blood-covered knife. His blood. It wasn't real. None of it was real._

"Here," he stated, but didn't have the strength to say more.

"Good, cause that was the easy part," Gibbs informed the younger man. He despised seeing Tony in so much pain, hated even more that he was causing some of it, but it would have to get worse if they were going to make it back to meet Kort.

"You have to sit up now." One step at a time, Gibbs decided.

Tony's waxy face had taken on a green cast. He nodded at the lead agent's command.

Gibbs eased his hands under Tony's shoulders and raised him slowly forward. When DiNozzo's waist bent double he bit his lip but managed to stay silent. Gibbs reached into the pack and located one of the hypodermic needles Ducky had provided. "I'm going to give you a painkiller; it's not enough to put you to sleep, but it should help you through the next couple of hours." He pulled the lid off with his teeth and plunged the injection into Tony's arm, tossing the empty syringe against the wall when he was done. Tony watched him numbly, unable to lodge even a mild protest.

"Alright. We have a chopper waiting for us a few miles away. You're going to have to get up and walk." Gibbs steely blue eyes stared right into his partner, willing his own strength into the cloudy green orbs.

Tony gritted his teeth, blinked some more, took as deep of a breath as his broken ribs would allow, and shook his head in agreement.

Gibbs positioned himself behind Tony. "I'll do all the work; you just concentrate on standing."

The silver-haired man once again placed his hands under Tony's arms. Lifting Tony was as easy as lifting a child; he weighed a fraction of what he would normally. "You know, if you wanted to lose a little weight you could have just gone on that grapefruit diet," Gibbs made light of the situation.

Tony chuckled. "Don't…..make…..me laugh." The small smile that had inched its way to the corners of his mouth left quickly, replaced by another wince. He covered his chest with his arm and grunted painfully, his legs suddenly giving out. The former marine held on, refusing to let him fall. He let Tony press against him and used his own frame to keep the younger man upright.

"Just let it pass, Tony. You can do this," he whispered resolutely in Tony's ear.

The shaking subsided; DiNozzo gained control of his labored breathing. Gibbs saw him regain his resolve. "Let's go," he said weakly.

_Gibbs was pulling his hair and smacking his face. No, no, no, it was just one of Childers' fucking mind-trips._

The two men slowly advanced into the hall and down the corridor; Gibbs wished they could move faster, but he could tell that each step Tony took was more than the man was actually capable of doing. He considered tossing DiNozzo over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes, but was afraid that would only increase Tony's injuries, so instead they continued to struggle onward.

The sound of gunfire could be heard at the end of the hallway; the ex-marine had no idea what they were walking into. "Kort, I have Tony, what's your status?" he used the earwig to address the CIA agent.

"Still taking fire, Gibbs. I could actually use a little help here."

"McGee, David, where are you?"

"We are getting ready to leave the security center," Ziva replied tersely. Gibbs sensed something out-of-sorts with her answer, but didn't have time to pursue his instinct that something might be wrong with his other two agents.

Tony tripped over his bare feet and stumbled; Gibbs tightened his hold which brought out another yelp. "Gotta stop….boss. Gotta….stop." Tony was already sinking downward.

Gibbs lowered Tony the rest of the way to the floor and checked his watch. Only ten minutes until detonation. He looked at DiNozzo's ashen pallor and closed eyes, and wondered if they had any chance to make it out in time.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The guards were slamming into the locked door that was the only thing separating them from McGee and Ziva. The Israeli had crammed herself between two large shelves; McGee was crouched behind one of the desks.

"Be ready," Ziva warned her partner. "We will only have a few second's advantage when they finally get into the room."

Tim nodded, not entirely sure he was actually ready.

The door banged again, splintering inward allowing the guards to barge inside. Ziva stepped forward and tapped the first guard in the neck, bright red blood gushing out in a small fountain. He screamed and covered the wound with his hand, losing his grip on his rifle and falling to his knees.

The second guard rushed in, yelling for them to drop their weapons. McGee moved from behind the desk and took aim, his finger tensed on the trigger, but he paused, for some reason unable to take the easy shot. The guard raised his gun and pointed it directly at the frozen agent.

With his own mortality staring him right in the face, McGee was unable to move. Suddenly, the guard jerked and tumbled into McGee, the younger man instinctively reaching out to catch his near killer. A dark and matted hole gaped in the security officer's skull; McGee yelled and dropped the guard the rest of the way to the floor. He looked up to find Ziva, still holding her Sig in front of her, standing directly behind where the man had just been.

She lowered her weapon and stared at McGee appraisingly. "Do not hesitate, Tim. It is the difference between living and dying."

She stepped over the dead body and strode from the room; McGee waited for a few minutes before following behind, the image of the gun aimed at him still impressed in his mind.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"You've had your siesta, DiNozzo; it's time to get the hell out of here."

Tony shook his head but didn't open his eyes. "I don't…..think I can….boss."

"Now is not the time to start questioning me, Tony. This entire house is wired to blow in less than ten minutes and I'm not leaving here without you. So if you don't want to be responsible for me ending up in tiny little pieces, I suggest you get your ass moving."

Tony sighed. "Never….play…..fair."

"Nope. Now come on."

Gibbs leaned over to pick him up again; he stopped when Tony's eyes grew wide and panicked. The lead agent sensed the presence standing behind him.

"Agent Gibbs. Imagine finding you here." Childers' voice was soft, smooth, and laced with venom. The professor raised his gun and clicked his tongue. "And Tony. I've tried really hard to take care of you; but it looks like I'm going to have to kill you after all."

Tony's wide eyes met Gibbs'; the lead agent squeezed his sinewy arm and stood, placing his body between his agent and Childers. "You'll have to get through me if you plan on doing anything else to him."

A wicked smile spread across the professor's face. "I was counting on that."

Gibbs faced the barrel of Childers' gun, trying to formulate a plan that would result in getting both him and Tony out of the deadly situation. He was coming up with nothing fast. His weapon was out of reach in its holster since he had been using both hands to help DiNozzo.

"I'm going to do what I should have done back in Virginia, Agent Gibbs. I'm going to shoot you so there's no one who will care what happens to Tony."

"Why don't you put that gun down and take me on like a man, Childers? Let's see what you're really made of."

The professor laughed. "I've already kicked your ass once, Gibbs. Do you want me to do it again just to remind you that I can?"

The ex-gunny smiled. "The outcome might be different now that I can use both my arms."

"It's a tempting offer, but I don't think so, not with all your people running around here trying to kill me. I think I'll just shoot you right in front of Tony so he knows exactly what happens as a result of his lack of cooperation. He can live the rest of his life knowing that you died because of his stubbornness."

Tony couldn't move, couldn't help his boss, couldn't do anything more than watch the scene play out in front of him. His sluggish mind felt like it was encased in a useless body made of lead. "No….anything….I'll do anything….." he managed to say. The torment he had endured was nothing compared to the idea of watching Gibbs die trying to save him.

_That's the way it should be Tony. Gibbs deserves to die for what he's done to you. _Tony shook his head to try and dislodge the voice that wouldn't shut up. _He's the one who wants to hurt you; he's the one you have to stop. It's the opportunity you've been waiting for._

Gibbs saw the look of desperation and confusion in Tony's eyes and wasn't about to let the younger man hand himself over again. He would rather they both die than see Tony continue to be tortured. Flicking his eyes down to his watch, he could tell their time was up; he waited for what could be his only chance to save them.

Childers aimed his weapon just as all hell broke loose. The building rocked and swayed to the sound of an enormous explosion; the lights flickered off leaving them in semi-darkness. Childers lost his balance and fell to his knees; Gibbs lashed out like a coiled cobra, kicking the gun loose from the professor's hand before tackling the man to the ground.

The breath was knocked from the doctor; Gibbs punched him several times in the jaw and stomach. The professor tried to fight back, but was too taken by surprise to put up much resistance. Gibbs exploded in rage and fury, for a few minutes blinded by the opportunity to pay the man back for all that he had done to Tony over the last few months. He lifted the other man's head and slammed it mercilessly on the hard floor, leaving the doctor momentarily limp and lifeless.

When Gibbs stood and looked back to check on DiNozzo, his brow creased at what he saw. Tony had scooted over to where the gun had fallen on the floor and somehow, despite the agony it must have cost him, had managed to pick it up. Using the wall for support, he had then pushed himself into a mostly upright position. He held the gun using both trembling hands. His eyes were knitted together from the concentration it was requiring to remain standing; cold sweat coated his skin. Each breath he took was slow and deliberate, as if he was afraid the next one might not come.

But what made Gibbs' heart stop was that instead of pointing the weapon at Childers, his senior field agent had taken aim right at him.


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: I hope this chapter is worthy of the evil Childers has brought on our boy. And (I can't quite help myself) there is a bit of a cliffie at the end! As usual, forgive any errors, specifically medical mistakes. Oh, and sorry about the re-postings, but I get little details that nag at my brain and I have to add them or it drives me nuts. **

**I honestly think I love you guys. Your comments are so encouraging, and helpful and just plain fun! We have a few more chapters to go, so keep them coming!**

**Thanks!**

**TLH**

Ziva and McGee raced toward the front of the house, their footsteps against the tile sounding in unison with the repeated rounds of gunfire. Weapons drawn, they arrived at the scene of the fight intent on helping Kort and his associates escape from the battle zone that had overtaken the once comfortably decorated living area. It currently resembled something out of Martha Stewart's nightmares.

As Ziva turned the final corner she heard someone scream, "Don't shoot me! Please, I surrender, just don't shoot me!"

The skinny young man cowered behind a sofa with his hands in the air, Kort standing over him with his weapon pressing into the man's forehead right above his eyes. The terrified scientist started crying hysterically, a wet stain spreading over the crotch of his khakis. "I swear, all I did was help him! None of this is my fault; you want Dr. Childers, not me!" Andrew blubbered pathetically, tears streaming from beneath the edges of his glasses.

"Oh, I think we can find a use for you, my scared little mouse. It's time for you to find out what it's like to be the pawn." Kort stared at Andrew with the same bored, detached expression that never left his face. He addressed the short agent at his side. "Tie him up. He's coming with us."

McGee steadied his heart at the carnage in the open room. Furniture was upended, broken glass littered the floor, expensive artwork hung in tatters. The bodies of Childers' security force were tossed on the carpet like discarded trash. He noticed the blonde woman who had accompanied Kort on the helicopter lying on her back, blue eyes staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing.

"I got company," a voice broke through on the earwig; McGee identified the speaker as the demolition expert. "Dammit, someone's made me!"

The sound of more shots crackled into their ears, the man on the outside of the house grunting and cursing before finally falling silent. McGee stared open-mouthed at Ziva and Kort when he realized the agent would more than likely not be coming back with them. There was still no sign of Gibbs and Tony, one of their agents was dead, and now the bomb expert had been killed. This op was going to hell in a hand basket.

"What now? Who's going to detonate the rest of the charges?" the junior agent asked nervously.

A low rumbling reminiscent of a minor earthquake shook the house, knocking the remaining paintings to the floor and tossing the agents sideways as a blast tore the foundation of the structure.

"Does that answer your question, McGee?" Kort growled. "My man took care of it. Now we have to finish our objectives and get out of here before the last of those charges go."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony's eyes were open and wide, but unfocused; he looked like he was listening to something very far away. Bewilderment and uncertainty lined his face and creased his forehead.

_He's the one who hurt you, Tony. Remember? You've seen him do it over and over again. Make him pay, Tony. Make him pay._

The violent scenes involving Gibbs that Childers had made him watch for the past month rolled through Tony's mind. Indecision clouded his thoughts; he had no idea what to do. Should he listen to the voices? If he did he would be rewarded and if he didn't he would be punished? Was anything that was happening right now even real? He couldn't trust himself to figure out fact from fiction.

"You know what to do, Tony. Trust yourself. Once it's over you'll feel much better and you won't be scared anymore." Childers was awake and staring intently at Tony. "Follow through with what you're supposed to do and everything will be alright. He won't be able to cause you any more pain."

"I don't want to," Tony whispered. "Please don't make me."

The agony in his head was building again, each moment he stood there doing nothing it intensified. His legs felt like rubber and he sank down on the wall a little lower.

_Gibbs doesn't really care about you. He'll kill you if you give him a chance._

"Don't listen to him, DiNozzo," Gibbs said, keeping his voice deep and calm. He watched as Tony licked his cracked lips and tried to control his rapid breathing. Slowly, Gibbs moved his hand to the backup weapon he had strapped to his ankle. He didn't want to use it, but the look in Tony's eyes wasn't promising. The gun was shaking in Tony's hands so violently, Gibbs wasn't sure the younger man could pull the trigger if he tried.

"This is your chance to finally get things right, Tony. This time can make up for all your other mistakes," Childers goaded him.

Tony looked back and forth between the two men, not sure who was telling him the truth.

"We have to get out of here, Tony, the team is waiting on us," Gibbs reminded him. He wrapped his hand around the hilt of the small gun.

_Take your shot, Tony. Get it over with. Make him pay. He's lying to you. Go ahead and do it. He'll hurt the team. He'll hurt you. Get it over with. Make him pay. Take your shot, Tony. _The words overlapped and built upon each other, a never ending cycle of urgent demands.

"NO!" he shouted and lifted the weapon higher. His head was shattering into a thousand stars against a black velvet night. Did he shoot Gibbs, or Childers, or just turn the gun on himself and be done with it? He couldn't think, couldn't decide, couldn't pick which voice to listen to.

_Sorry, Tony. _They had to get out of there; waiting any longer was not an option. Gibbs raised his backup and aligned it to take a shot at Tony's calf, intending to force his already injured friend back to the floor.

He stopped when Tony's weight shifted, the field agent's gun moving from its angle pointing at him to unsteadily aim in Childers' direction. "I won't…..I won't do it….I'd rather die." His voice was choking, nearly pleading at the end. "Nothing you could do…could ever make me hurt Gibbs. You're the one...who needs to die."

His fingers, buoyed by a willpower even he didn't know he possessed until now, finally squeezed the trigger, but the bullet went nowhere near its intended target, his trembling hands unable to control the weapon enough to take a clear shot. "Boss," he gasped, his weakened body collapsing beneath him. "Boss," he choked out again, momentarily losing his tenuous hold on consciousness. He dropped Childers' gun, which fell to the floor between him and the professor.

Gibbs turned his own weapon toward Childers before lowering himself to where Tony lay slumped against the wall. "I'm here, Tony. You alright?" he asked. DiNozzo blearily looked up at him.

"I didn't know….what to do. So I tried…..to kill him…..instead of you. Not you." His voice was barely audible, any strength he had left expended in the struggle to break through the control the professor had tried to exert over his mind.

The lead agent patted Tony's cheek. "You had me worried for a minute, DiNozzo, but I should've known better. Are you alright?"

Tony leaned his head against the wall and gave up on trying to make sense of what was happening. He couldn't think anymore; all he wanted to do was go to sleep. Any adrenaline that had been surging through him evaporated and he let his eyes sink closed. When Gibbs shook his arm and asked again if he was alright, he nodded wearily.

Standing, Gibbs walked over to Childers. The white-haired doctor gingerly pulled himself into a sitting position, groaning at the movement. His face was a mass of dark bruises, his nose and lips oozing blood. He laughed bitterly. "So I guess you think you've won, Gibbs. You'll take Tony back home and stick me in some cell. How long do you think that will last? My abilities are sought after by the highest government authorities, including our own. After I've been given time to think over my sins, they'll let me go in return for playing nice and giving them what they want. It's the way these things work."

Gibbs listened to him impassively.

"And then, I'll be back. When you think I'm gone and life has moved on, I'll reassert my control and show you and Tony exactly who's in charge. Isn't that right, Tony? You know I'll never let you go. This has gone beyond what I can train you to do or what I can learn from you. It's personal now. I won't rest until I teach you who really has power over your life."

Gibbs looked down at Tony's anxious eyes and pounding heart, every rapid beat revealed through his naked chest. Childers was right; as long as he lived Tony would never be free, never be able to move on from this incident and put it behind him. The silver-haired man knew what he had to do in order to allow this to be over. If he didn't, Tony would never be himself again. Morally, ethically, many would consider it to be wrong. The law might even define it as a crime. But there were moments in time when none of that mattered anymore. He thought about the unspoken rule, the rule that would never be written on paper and saved in a box because it was recorded somewhere that made the physical act of writing it down unnecessary; it was the unwritten rule of the heart.

_You do whatever you have to for family._

Gibbs understood that rule all too well; he knew Tony understood it, too. And that family wasn't always the one you were born into, but the one you chose, who stood elbow to elbow with you through the highs and lows, and never, ever let you go it alone.

Gibbs turned back to DiNozzo and found the green eyes at half-mast, but staring at him. They were for the moment clear, not clouded by pain or drugs or confusion. Words weren't needed; Gibbs said all he had to with the smallest raise of his eyebrow and tilt of his head. Tony responded with a slight nod and closed his eyes the rest of the way. "Do it," the younger man whispered.

Gibbs would wrestle with the right and wrong of his decision later, in his basement over a bottle, or maybe several bottles, of bourbon and long hours of sanding. For now, he did what he knew was right for Tony. Nothing else was important.

He lifted his gun and pointed it at Childers' head.

"What are you doing?" the professor asked. "You won't shoot me, not a straight and narrow lawman like you, Gibbs. You might bend the rules some, but not that much. You couldn't live with the guilt of cold-blooded murder."

The blue-eyed man gave him a hard smile. "I guess that's something you don't know about me, Childers. I already do."

Realization spread over the professor's face as he finally comprehended what was about to happen. In one last desperate attempt to preserve his own life, Childers lunged toward the gun Tony had dropped lying a few feet away from him. His hand closed on the hilt and he rolled, lifting the weapon to aim at the marine sniper. But Gibbs had tracked him like a hunter seeking his prey; the marine fired, his bullet penetrating through the doctor's right shoulder. Childers screamed, dropping his weapon and grasping the tattered wound. "You shot me! I can't believe you shot me!"

Quietly, the lead agent took aim again, pulling the trigger and sending a bullet through the professor's left knee. The man yellled in agony, rolling on the floor at the debilitating pain radiating from his decimated leg.

Gibbs sighed at the slaughter, knowing full well the act would bring him neither comfort nor peace. He turned his back on the groaning man and returned to Tony's side. "Let's get a move on, Sundance."

Tony put a shaky hand on Gibbs' arm. "Thanks." His red-rimmed and watery green eyes were filled with an expression of gratitude the lead agent would never forget and confirmed his choice as the correct one. "I would've….done it myself, if…..if I could've."

"I know, Tony, I know." He watched as his young friend's eyes continued to brim with emotion.

"You shouldn't have had to do that for me, boss…you shouldn't…I'm sorry…." Tony was shaking again; Gibbs was uncertain if it was a reaction to his injuries, or the cold, or plain old-fashioned shock. In all honesty, it was probably all three.

Gibbs shook his head, and decided for right now, the walls of pride and manhood didn't matter; he hugged Tony gently, pulling him into an easy embrace and patting the back of his head. "Stop, Tony. Stop blaming yourself for everything. Childers is a monster, and monsters deserve to die. I'll never regret for one minute doing anything that means he can't hurt you anymore. Got it?"

Tony made a choking sound. "Got it, boss." He started coughing again; acrid grey smoke was now billowing into the hallway, burning his nose and making it even more difficult to breathe. Bright orange flames emerged at the end of the corridor, snaking their way down the walls and across the ceiling towards them.

Childers had rolled over on his stomach and was trying to crawl away from the increasing heat; he had managed to move a few feet leaving a bloody trail behind him on the white floor. "You can't leave me here. You have to take me with you," he begged. Sweat covered his pale and panicked face.

Gibbs gave the professor an emotionless blue-eyed stare. "This entire building is going to burn down around you in about five minutes. If you want to get out, I suggest you crawl a little faster."

"You'll pay for this, Gibbs! I swear, you'll pay for this!" Childers yelled, despite the futility of his words. "Don't leave me here to die!" his voice was filled with pathetic desperation. A chunk of burning tile fell from the ceiling onto his legs, quickly igniting the cloth of his pants. As the fire seared into his flesh, he howled again.

The silver-haired man ignored him. Aware that they had very little time, Gibbs carefully pulled Tony up, letting the younger man's wasted body lean against his own. Without another backward glance at the monster still screaming at them from behind, they continued their slow trek toward the front of the house, and Gibbs hoped toward home.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Kort raised his head at the approach of Gibbs and Tony, the two men taking shape out of a hallway that was filled with thick, black smoke. Both of the agents were coughing; Tony was wheezing and listing to the side, barely able to stand. McGee quickly ran over to the two, wedging his shoulder under Tony's loose arm to help support him. DiNozzo's eyes flicked up at the younger man. Just seeing his friend made him feel somewhat human again.

"Hey, McSpy," he managed to mumble. "Nice duds."

Tim had been shocked beyond words at the sight of his bald and emaciated partner, but the caustic remark fit like a worn glove. He smiled. "Missed you too, Tony."

Tony was about to rally for a follow-up comment when another explosion roared beneath their feet, knocking everything, including them, off balance and into a heap. Tony screamed as his broken ribs continued to shift inside him, tearing his breath away and leaving him gasping.

Ziva and Kort rushed to help lift them off the floor. The Israeli lay her hand gently on Tony's heaving chest. "Calm breaths, my friend. Let the pain pass out of you." DiNozzo's eyes were squeezed shut; he opened them to find not only Ziva but Trent Kort looking down at him.

"Someone….should've told me….I'd died and …gone to hell. That…..would explain why…..he's here."

"I'd almost forgotten how much I can't stand you, DiNozzo. Thanks for reminding me. If I hadn't already lost two good agents on this operation I'd leave you here and call it a day."

"I…didn't ask….for…..your help," Tony struggled out, making a face when he ran out of air at the end and started hacking.

Kort raised an eyebrow. "No, he did." The CIA agent tilted his head at Gibbs. "Now get back up so we haven't wasted our time coming after you and your boss hasn't put himself in hock to me for no reason. The rest of those charges could detonate at any minute." The swirling smoke had thickened and turned black, wafting around them like a soot-filled early morning fog. Flames burst through a wall, licking upward toward the ceiling as oxygen fueled the blaze into a fury.

Tony clenched his jaw. "I can….get up," he stated, attempting to rise, but the scissors in his belly and chest had him curled in the floor again before he knew what he was doing.

McGee gave Kort a scathing glance prior to placing a hand on Tony's shoulder. "Take it easy, Tony. Let us help you, ok?"

Unable to answer, DiNozzo nodded his assent.

Ziva and McGee lifted Tony as easily as they could, steadying him as he started trembling during the minor exertion. Gibbs grabbed a throw off the sofa and tossed it over his senior field agent's bare shoulders. Ziva readjusted her grip on Tony and lifted her chin to McGee. "Let us get out of here." She bent her head nearer to DiNozzo's ear. "Come on, chaver, it is time to go."

Hunching slightly to avoid the scorching heat from the fire that was dancing its way onto the exposed ceiling beams and eating at the drapes, they stumbled toward the exit. The sounds of crackling wood increased as the flames began to roar, sections of drywall and rafters tumbling to the floor.

Kort grasped Gibbs' arm as they ducked their heads to avoid the flying embers and jogged toward the door. "Childers?" he asked, stopping as they reached the entryway.

"Not a problem anymore."

"I told you not to do anything I wouldn't do."

Gibbs snorted. "I didn't."

Kort watched the two NCIS agents assisting Tony down the steps, his movements slow, cautious, and painful.

"DiNozzo might be an asshole, but I don't think I blame you. At least we still have the professor's sidekick to give us any information we might need." Kort nodded at Andrew who was being led away by the other remaining CIA operative.

Gibbs head jerked up at a sound on the far side of the room. He squinted through the fire and ash to see what was happening. The silhouettes of several men emerged from the chaos.

"What's that?" Kort asked.

"Trouble," Gibbs answered. "Let's go."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Gibbs and Kort ran up behind the rest of the team. "We've gotta move fast; there are a couple more security guards behind us and they aren't happy," Gibbs explained.

Kort was on the radio to the helicopter pilot. "He's going to land out here, but we have to make it to the middle of the lawn. Hold them back for a few minutes."

The former marine was already laying down a line of fire; McGee and Ziva hurried ahead as fast as they could under Tony's nearly dead weight.

The guards ducked behind a row of bushes next to the house, continuing to shoot at the retreating group.

Without warning, Tony's body went completely limp, his legs no longer making any effort to hold him up. Unable to change their positions quickly enough, Ziva and McGee lost their grip on him and all three agents fell to the hard earth.

"Tony!" Ziva cried out, scrambling to make sure he was still breathing. She sighed with relief when she was able to detect a weak pulse.

"Boss, we need help!" McGee yelled.

Gibbs turned to see what his agent wanted. One of the guards took that second to line up a shot on the silver-haired man.

In that brief moment, McGee recognized what was about to happen; this time he didn't hesitate. Sliding his weapon into his hand he took aim and fired, his bullet ripping its way through the chest of the security officer. The man fell at the fatal shot.

Gibbs glanced over his shoulder; then faced McGee again who was still lying on his back with his gun in his hands. The lead agent ran to the fallen trio, noting immediately that Tony was out cold but continuing to raggedly breathe. The sound of helicopter blades pounding the night air caught their attention; they looked up to find their ride home making its way over the treetops.

"We'll have to carry him," Gibbs directed, bending to pick their friend up under the arms. With the chopper on the ground, they hauled DiNozzo over and lifted him in, strapping the unconscious man into a seat. The squatty agent ran after them, shoving a sniveling Andrew inside so Ziva could roughly buckle him in place before climbing in himself.

Kort finally took out the remaining guard and trotted over to join them, jumping into the helicopter and giving the order to lift off.

Just as they cleared the trees, a final and devastating explosion raged through the compound. A fireball plumed into the night sky, casting a fiery red glow over the shredded structure. They watched as the fire was sucked back down into the house, flames racing across what remained of the building. No one spoke as they flew across the dark sky, eyes transfixed by the haunting inferno they had so narrowly escaped.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Ziva was a woman of action; sitting in the helicopter watching Tony slumped against Gibbs' shoulder made her feel useless and somewhat afraid. It didn't even look like Tony; the pale, waxy skin, the bruised torso, the thin frame. His eyes were hollowed out, his cheeks were sunken, and his jaw line had taken on a sharp and chiseled edge. She teased him for his vanity, but she loved to touch his hair, to run her fingers through it when he was tired or hurt. It twisted her gut that she would not be able to do that for him now that his brown spiky crown was gone.

He had opened his eyes several times and glanced around, but didn't seem to have the strength, energy, or desire to do more than reassure himself that he was there and they were there and he was safe. He had looked across the aisle at her and she had smiled at him, but he had not returned the favor, just stared vacantly and let his eyes slide shut again. It wasn't fair that she wanted him to show her that he was still Tony by grinning or winking or making some comment entirely inappropriate for the moment. All the things she complained about were the very same things she now wanted him to do for her benefit.

When they hit some turbulence she saw him gasp and try to shift away from his position leaning against Gibbs, but the lead agent wrapped his arm around the younger man's skinny shoulders and held him tight, while he whispered into Tony's ear. Her partner blinked a couple of times and nodded; she could read lips well enough to know that he said "ok, boss" before allowing his head to once more slip into the niche above Gibbs' shoulder blade.

Gibbs didn't remove his arm, but kept it firmly in place, ensuring that Tony moved as little as possible while the helicopter streaked through the sky. The older man's back remained perfectly straight and his face unreadable, a rock-solid pillar of strength protecting his agent's battered body until he finally made it home. Ziva knew that Tony was hurting and in pain, and it would be a kindness if he didn't remember much about his rescue, but a small part of her wondered if he did remember, could he ever doubt what the older man felt for him? Because from Ziva's vantage point, it was obvious that he was, without a doubt, loved in the most paternal sense of the word.

Her reaction to the two men sitting across from her was surprising; she understood that for all his posturing the steady arm that Gibbs' provided was what Tony yearned for more than anything, and Gibbs needed the sense of family and being a father that Tony brought out in him. Their strengths and weaknesses complimented each other as only those of a father and son could.

By the time they landed at Bethesda, many hours later, Tony had been unconscious for a while. She knew they could have taken him to outstanding medical facilities that were much closer, but Gibbs felt it was best to have him as near to home as possible. Everyone had agreed; they sensed more than anything he would want to be near things that were familiar and well-known. McGee and Gibbs managed to lift him out of the chopper and onto the waiting gurney, one last act of kindness before turning him over to doctors and nurses, who, although they would have his best interests at heart, would not really know him.

The staff, with the assistance of Dr. Mallard, swarmed over their new patient like moths to a flame, whisking him away to do tests and assessments and whatever else was necessary to start him on his road back to health.

Ziva observed her boss, as for just a second, he ran his fingers through his silver hair and let his shoulders slump, giving in to the worry, stress, and exhaustion of the last few months. It was a flicker in time, gone just as quickly as it arrive when he sensed the approach of others. And to think, she had asked him to choose between her and Tony, to even for a moment consider assigning Tony to another team. It had been a very foolish thing for her to do. She wasn't jealous, or hurt even, merely accepting of the fact that no matter how much the lead agent cared about the rest of them, no matter how much he cared about her, there was a bond between the two men that couldn't be denied.

She instinctively covered her face as the helicopter lifted off, wind from the rotors beating down on her. When it was gone, Gibbs and McGee stood by her side.

"You two need to go home and change clothes, grab something to eat. We won't hear anything about Tony for hours anyway," Gibbs suggested to his team. "I'll call Abby, Palmer, and Vance. By the time you get back maybe we'll know something."

The two agents looked at each other, not wanting to leave but knowing the idea was a practical one. "Go. I'm making it an order," the lead agent added.

McGee sighed, unable to hide his mounting fatigue. "Call if you need anything," he said, stifling a yawn.

Gibbs smiled at him. "You did good tonight, Tim."

The younger man blushed. "Thanks, boss," he replied and made his way for the elevator.

Ziva paused and met Gibbs' gaze.

"Something on your mind?" he asked.

"Do you plan on ordering yourself home, too? Food and a shower would not hurt you either. What is good for the goose is good for the…geese? Gooses? Other goose?" She shook her head in frustration.

"Gander. I give you points for trying, though. That's a tough one. And no, I'm staying."

She smiled at the answer she expected, but it was her duty to try. "I will bring you back coffee. The good kind that you like, the kind that looks like used motor oil."

He leaned over and gave her a rare kiss on the cheek, something he usually reserved for Abby. "Thank you, Ziva. Now go."

She left, believing in her heart she had made the right choice to stay here and make America her permanent home and this group of people, with Gibbs as their patriarch, her surrogate family.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"You look like shit," Vance stated as he walked into the waiting room.

Gibbs grinned and continued to twirl the empty coffee cup that he had drained dry over thirty minutes before. "That's what my last ex-wife told me."

"How's DiNozzo?" Vance settled into a hard plastic chair next to the lead agent.

"I still haven't heard anything. It's been a couple of hours; I was hoping Ducky would be back out by now."

"I saw a report on the fire and explosions; it's being attributed to a faulty gas line."

"Leave it to Kort to have a good cover-up."

Vance leveled his gaze. "What happened to Childers? I gather he didn't make it back with you."

Gibbs looked down at the floor and stretched his lips into a thin line.

Vance tapped his foot and sighed.

"Maybe I don't need to know," the Director amended.

"Nope."

The two men sat in silence until Abby, McGee, Ziva, and Palmer exited the elevator. Gibbs stood and tossed his empty cup in the trash, taking the new steaming coffee that Ziva handed him.

"Have you seen Tony yet?" Abby asked anxiously.

"Not yet, Abs."

"Well, what could be taking so long? McGee said he wasn't hurt that bad, a little on the skinny side and kind of out of it, but not too bad. So what could be going on? And why hasn't Ducky told you anything?" She whirled on McGee, pigtails flying around her head as she spun to face him. "What did you leave out? Why didn't you tell me everything? You know how I feel about being lied to, McGee!"

"I didn't lie to you, Abby! I mean, maybe I glossed over the fact that he was more than just skinny, more like emaciated, but I didn't think it would help if you got upset."

The Goth scowled at her friend before spinning back to face Gibbs. "How bad is it? And no 'glossing over the facts' like McGee. I demand to know the truth!"

"The truth will set you free, Abigail," Ducky burred when he walked up behind her.

"Ducky!" she squealed. "They won't tell me anything! You'll tell me what's going on, right?"

"Of course I will, my dear." He patted her black-sleeved arm. "Now let's all have a seat and discuss our lad's condition. What do you want to hear first, the good news or the bad news?"

"Bad news," Ziva said.

"Good news," McGee stated.

Ziva frowned and shook her head; McGee opened his mouth and shrugged. Gibbs looked at them both like they each needed a headslap.

Instead he pursed his lips. "Just tell us something, ok, Duck?" His voice held a thin, brittle tone.

Dr. Mallard nodded. "The good news is that Tony is currently stabilized and his problems are not immediately life-threatening." He watched as relief spread across their faces. "That does not mean he is out of the woods. The bad news is that he has a long road of recovery ahead of him. They're prepping him for surgery now; the neurologist feels they need to get the implant out of his head as quickly as possible."

"Is that going to cause any long-term damage?" Vance questioned.

"It's really impossible to tell. He could continue to experience migraines and seizures, but those effects can be controlled with medication. The other pressing concern is his inability to eat and other side-effects of starvation and dehydration. Special care has to be taken to avoid something called refeeding syndrome. It's a condition primarily identified in malnourished prisoners-of-war who were given food following their release from detainment; the unfortunate soldiers died as a result of their digestive systems having shut down. It will take quite a while before he's able to eat normally again."

"So we have brain surgery, he can't eat, anything else?" Gibbs demanded, a rough edge in his voice.

"There is also a small tear in his spleen, which is currently being monitored to determine if surgery is necessary, and a partially collapsed lung that is being treated with oxygen and inhalants, and several broken ribs. Oh, and he does have a nasty cough resulting from a small spot of pneumonia that appears to be the consequence of aspirating at some time during his captivity." The doctor removed his glasses and rubbed them with his shirt. "The list is rather long when I say it out loud. The only other significant issue is some muscle atrophy from the imbalance in proteins due to the lack of nutrition. That, we hope, can be addressed with physical therapy and reestablishing his nutritional balance."

"It sounds like with the correct medical care and some time he should be fine," Palmer summarized cautiously. "Right?"

"Definitely. He's very weak, though, and it will take quite a while for him to rebuild his strength. I think that might be where we experience the greatest difficulty; Anthony is not well-known for his patience."

"So he will rest for a few weeks and watch movies. We will make sure he loves it," Ziva pointed out, relieved that it sounded like the situation was not as bad as it first seemed.

"I don't think it's going to be quite that simple, my dear. Once the surgery is complete they'll move him to surgical ICU until he's stronger. After that he should be transferred to a general floor for several weeks. They won't want to release him until his food intake issues have been resolved and he's restored some of his body weight. Even then, he's going to require an extensive amount of assistance over the next six to eight weeks. Just because he isn't dying doesn't mean he won't need a great deal of care."

Gibbs nodded solemnly. "Gotcha, Duck. You know we'll do what it takes to get him back on his feet."

Dr. Mallard smiled. "I knew you would. Now, who would like to accompany me to the cafeteria for a bite to eat? Someone will find us as soon as Tony is out of surgery."

The team agreed it would be the best place to wait; heading for the elevator, Gibbs stopped the ME. "How do you think he's going to do mentally, Ducky? It's not like he spent the last month at a spa."

The ME met the worried blue eyes. "That is a question I can't answer as a physician or a friend. The only person who can tell you what you want to know is Tony. But I can promise you that no matter what, we will get him through this."

Gibbs clapped his old friend on the back. "That we will, Duck. That we will."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony had the floating, otherworldly feeling that was a result of very good drugs. Even with his eyes closed, he sensed that he was in a hospital, and that he must still be under the influence of anesthesia. Somehow he knew that a person was hovering over him, and he could hear his name being called from very, very far away. It seemed rude not to answer, but it also seemed impossible to do.

"His body temp's still pretty low, can you grab another blanket?"

Seconds later he was cocooned in an envelope of toasty warmth. It had been a really long time since he was truly warm; the feeling was impossibly comforting.

"Hey there Tony, open those big green eyes for me."

He didn't want to open his eyes; it was pleasant to float here and enjoy being tucked in nice and safe where no one could hurt him. The bed was soft and the pain he had grown so used to was gone. No, he didn't want to open his eyes because bad things might happen if he opened his eyes. _What if this was all a dream?_

The persistent woman with the impossibly perky voice wouldn't take no for an answer.

"You have to wake up, Tony. Let me know that you can hear me."

Maybe if he answered her she would leave him alone and go away.

"Sleepy. Warm."

It was not his best effort at conversation, but he must have done ok because the next thing he was aware of he was moving through corridors. A tickle in his nose woke him up later. He swatted at the irritation, finding a tube attached to his face. He tugged his eyes open and looked around, recognizing the familiar surroundings of the ICU.

He tried to turn his head, but it felt like someone had replaced his brain with a ten pound bowling ball. Abandoning that idea, he decided to take inventory; it became obvious why he was on oxygen since every shallow breath was a struggle to pull air into his lungs past his fractured ribs. His stomach ached dully, and he was sure that would hurt worse without the pharmacological assistance he was receiving through an IV. His muscles felt cramped and tight, discouraging much movement beyond what he had to. There were too many tubes and wires attached to him to even get concerned about; they ran from the top of his head to the pressure point behind his knees. All in all, crap probably felt better than he did. He could hear the beeping of the heart monitor and scratching of the EEG.

He coughed a little, jarring everything around and making him moan at the end.

"Do you want something to drink?"

The familiar voice was at his side, which was why he didn't see the face. Before he could open his mouth to reply, a bombardment of flashbacks ran through his mind, stealing his words and taking his limited breath away. _Gibbs stabbing him. Gibbs hitting him. Gibbs laughing at him. Gibbs shooting him. Gibbs slitting his throat._

The lead agent stopped pouring the cup of water and sat the pitcher back on the nightstand. _What the hell was happening?_ Tony's heart rate had shot off the charts and the monitors were suddenly screaming like a chorus of banshees. DiNozzo's eyes were rolled back in his head and his already pale skin had gone whiter than the sheets he was laying on.

"No, don't please," the senior field agent mumbled. "Don't do this to me."

"Tony? What's going on? What's wrong?"

"I can't make it stop this time! I can't…..it's not real…not real."

His weakened condition had disabled whatever barriers he had erected against Childers' implanted scenarios. Even with his eyes open all he could see were the various images the professor had subjected him to almost daily for weeks on end. It was a waking nightmare; a flashback to hell with Gibbs as the villain and him as the victim. He struggled to free himself from the memories, but couldn't escape.

"Tony? Tony, it's Gibbs. Just calm down." The lead agent touched the younger man's face, but DiNozzo flinched at the contact, fear invading his emerald eyes.

"No," he moaned. "No, don't!"

A doctor and nurse brushed Gibbs aside, moving in to assess the situation and try to stabilize their unexpectedly volatile patient.

Tony's eyes were focused past them all, looking at images none of the rest of them could see.

"He's….going to kill….me. He's trying…..to kill me. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I won't screw up again." His struggle to control himself as he fell headlong into whatever he was seeing was difficult for Gibbs to watch. "I….I can't breathe." Tony pleaded with the doctor, unable to get any air into his damaged lungs. Each breath he took was barely more than a wheezing gasp. His mouth moved but he couldn't make any sound. He started coughing again.

The nurse shook her head. "His O2's are dropping like a rock. What do you want to do?"

The doctor frowned, not wanting to take any drastic steps if he could avoid it. Instead, he hoped to get the young man to calm down. "Give him some valium," he said softly to the nurse. He bent close to Tony and tried to speak evenly. "You have to settle down, Agent DiNozzo. Who are you seeing? Who's hurting you?"

The field agent took several more shallow breaths, his rapid heartbeat and breathing pushing him further into hyperventilation. His whispered answer sucked the rest of the oxygen from the room.

"Gibbs."

A nurse standing near the doorway saw the older man freeze and the color drain from his face until he was nearly as white as Tony. She took his arm gently. "Why don't we wait outside and let the doctor figure out what's going on?"

The silver-haired man let her push him toward the door. He watched as they switched the nasal cannula for a mask and heard the doctor say something to the nurse about intubation if Tony's oxygen levels didn't improve quickly.

Ducky was standing in the waiting room when Gibbs was led out. "What's happening, Jethro? I just saw half the ICU staff run into Tony's room."

The lead agent tried to accept what he'd observed, but it was proving a challenge for him to put into words. "Tony had a flashback and it scared the hell out of him; sent his heart and who knows what else racing out of control. He can't breathe and they're talking about tubing him."

"Oh, my. I suppose his memories of Childers are going to be more difficult to deal with than we had anticipated."

Gibbs shook his head. "That's the problem, Ducky. It wasn't Childers he was scared of." The lead agent sat down and looked up at his old friend with a mixture of confusion and pain. "It was me."


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: My apologies for taking so long with this chapter. I could write a page of reasons why, but I will sum it up in one word: life. Plus, I was really trying to provide a suitable way for Tony to work through his physical and emotional damage. The story is actually going to end up at 16 chapters, so we have one more to go after this one. I just had to try and do our boy's plight justice and not take the recovery too quickly. (Forgive medical mistakes; I need to become friends with a doctor.)**

**As always, thanks for your continued support. Knowing the story is wrapping up, I really look forward to hearing from you! (Oh, and if you don't understand the Ohio State Marching Band reference, just ask and I'll explain!)**

**TLH**

Tony shifted around on the bed and tried to find a comfortable position, but no amount of wiggling seemed to help. He thought about pushing himself up so his back was straighter and less hunched over, but his muscles were still so ineffective he barely scooted an inch. The small amount of movement left him tired and breathing heavily.

The tube in his neck was aching; he glanced over at the machine standing at his side and the bag of nutrients that was slowly cycling into his body through the line. It was amazing that he still had no appetite, and even the intravenous nutrition was making him nauseous. He was beginning to think his long standing relationship with pizza and beer might be over.

"Agent DiNozzo?" He blinked his eyes open to find the doctor standing over him. He had fallen asleep again without even realizing it.

"Sorry, I seem to keep dozing off."

The doctor smiled. "It's understandable. You're going to require a lot of sleep while your body is trying to heal. My name's Dr. Reed; I'll be taking care of things while you're staying with us. We've met before, but I'm afraid you might not remember me."

A nurse loosened his gown so the physician could begin his routine, starting with Tony's lungs. "Can you take a deep breath?"

The injured agent attempted to do as requested, sucking in as much air as he could despite the pain in his fractured ribs. When he tried another deep breath, he had a minor coughing attack instead. The doctor didn't give away whether he was dissatisfied with that or not. "Alright, the nurse is going to help you lean forward so I can listen from the back." The doctor snaked the stethoscope onto his bare skin and repeated the process, pausing when he continued to cough. The nurse helped him lean back onto the bed once the doctor finished. The minor exertion left him feeling as if he'd run a marathon.

"Despite all the coughing, your lung function is actually somewhat improved over last night, although nowhere near 100% yet. We were able to get your collapsed lung to re-expand with a needle aspiration when you were first brought in, and hopefully there won't be any further complications from that injury. You do have a small spot of pneumonia we're keeping an eye on, but the antibiotics should take of that. Let's give it a few more days and see if your breathing continues to improve; you'll need to stay on oxygen until then. Now let's take a look at that spleen."

He moved the flimsy gown aside and started palpitating Tony's flat and tender stomach; the agent let out a yelp as he pressed down firmly. The doctor frowned. "I'm going to order another CT scan; I'd like to avoid a splenectomy since that can lead to some long-term complications, but I don't want to take any unnecessary risks. Let's make sure the spleen is continuing to heal on its own."

Tony nodded at the information. He was finding the entire conversation exhausting.

Next, the incision behind his ear was assessed. The nurse held his head up while the doctor removed the bandage and inspected the sutures. After some delicate prodding, the physician applied new gauze and tape. "How are the headaches? We have you on medication to prevent any migraines or seizures, so hopefully you aren't having any problems."

"Not….. so bad," Tony said honestly, grateful that the brutal pounding he had felt for so long had loosened its grip somewhat.

"Good. But it's important you don't move around much yet; it will help the area of bone we had to remove heal back better. Think you can hold still for a couple days for us?"

"Sure," he supplied without much energy.

Finally, the doctor checked the TPN line that was attached to a vein in his neck. "On a positive note, we plan on removing this sometime tomorrow and transferring you to nasogastric feeding. It should cause less nausea. I'd like to see you try some solid food by the end of the week. We can't rush that too much or your digestive system won't be able to handle it and the food will make you sick."

"Kay," Tony agreed, not really caring what the man was telling him. He was starting to nod off again. His heavy eyes were barely open.

The doctor patted his shoulder as the nurse readjusted his gown and the blankets. "I know the fatigue you're experiencing is difficult, but until you get some weight back on your frame and some of these other complications have resolved it's going to be an issue. But at least if things go as planned, you might graduate from ICU in a day or two. In the meantime, you have a visitor."

Ducky entered the room, placing his coat on the chair and lifting Tony's hand in his own. "How are you feeling this morning, Anthony?"

Tony forced his eyes open. "Where's….Gibbs?" he asked immediately. He could recall enough bits and pieces from the previous evening to know it had gone very bad.

Dr. Mallard hesitated, proceeding cautiously. "Do you remember what happened last night?"

"Kind of. I didn't mean to get…..so upset. Is he mad?" Tony was already breathing more heavily.

The ME sat on the corner of the bed. "Of course he isn't mad. You had absolutely no control over your reaction. Even so, Dr. Reed felt it would be best if Gibbs waited a few days before visiting, just to give you some time to put your ordeal behind you."

Tony looked away for a minute and closed his eyes. "I have to see him, Ducky. You have….you have to make him…..come back." He turned toward the elderly physician. "Please." He asked somewhat desperately.

Ducky stole a glance at the heart monitor that was once again picking up pace. "Anthony, listen to me. You're in ICU for a reason; you need to allow your body to rest in order to recuperate. Don't let yourself to get worked up over this. Gibbs can come see you in a week or so; maybe even sooner if you regain some strength and the doctor feels you're ready to try again….."

The thin young man shakily pushed up on his elbow. Gibbs had done more for him than anyone should have to, and he had to let the lead agent know he would never be scared of him. "You don't understand!" he said loudly. "You don't…..understand," he repeated, his strength already waning. "I can't let him win. If…..if I can't see…or talk to Gibbs…then he wins…." He started gasping again.

"Who wins, Tony?" Ducky asked gently.

Tony's green eyes were bright and frantic. "Childers wins! I won't let him, Ducky…..I won't let him do that to me. I won't….."

An alarm started chiming. "Alright, Tony. Please just lie back down and relax." Ducky placed a hand under his head and helped lower him back to the bed. Tony was doing everything he could to feebly protest, but was too weak to even struggle with the elderly Scot, who had placed a very light hand on his shoulder. The feathery touch was more than enough to keep him trapped on the bed.

"Tell them, Ducky. Tell them…..to let him come back," he pleaded, since his deteriorated physical condition left him unable to do anything else.

Although most outsiders wouldn't see it, the ME knew how close Tony and Gibbs were. The senior field agent had spent his entire time at NCIS trying to live up to the lead agent's expectations of him; the pedestal Tony had Gibbs on was so high he doubted the younger man could see the top. Tony would have to know he had set things right with Gibbs before he could think about anything else, even his own health.

The ME glanced up as Dr. Reed entered the room. "I'll speak to the doctor and see what we can do; I'm sure if we say the word Gibbs will be back here in a heartbeat. Just promise me you'll try to sleep some. It's very important that you don't get upset anymore."

Dr. Reed moved in beside his agitated patient. "We just discussed this Tony. You promised to stay still and rest. Listen to Dr. Mallard."

Tony ignored the doctor, but focused entirely on the one person who could fulfill his demand. "Bring him back, Ducky. I can…deal with it…..I'll be ok….." His eyes were trying to close but he kept pushing them back open, fighting the tug of sleep. Tony loosely wrapped his fingers around the doctor's hand. "Give me your word, Ducky. He'll be here….he'll be here when I…..wake up." He coughed; his ribs moving uncomfortably making him wince. "I won't…..sleep unless you promise me."

"I promise, Tony. Rest, now. Please."

Finally getting the answer he wanted and unable to wrestle with the unrelenting exhaustion any longer, his eyes closed and his face fell slack. Ducky stood by his side until his breathing softened into a rhythmic pattern.

Dr. Reed stepped close to the Scot. "This isn't helping him."

"No, no it's not. In my opinion, knowing the stubbornness of this particular patient, I would say we need to let him have his way on the issue. Otherwise, he'll continue to fight whatever treatments we try to give him and he certainly won't get the amount of rest he requires to recover."

"And if he reacts the same way to Agent Gibbs' presence? I was extremely close to having to intubate him yesterday just to regulate his breathing. His system is way too fragile right now to continue handling these types of attacks."

"Then we will have to keep a close watch on him and provide whatever support he needs to get through this crisis." The ME said firmly. "But, trust me; keeping Gibbs away will only make it worse. I'll start trying to find a psychiatrist to provide him with some coping skills to deal with the trauma. It's all we can do for now."

Tony's eyes were shifting underneath the lids; Ducky adjusted the cannula on his face and pulled the blanket higher on his chest, absently patting the young man's shoulder when he was finished. His friend didn't deserve to experience any more hurt than he already had, and if that meant they had to figure out a way to let him see Gibbs, he would make sure it happened.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Dr. Mallard." The other physician warned.

Ducky picked up Tony's arm and placed it under the blanket. What little doubt he had about his decision was gone. "I believe I do, Dr. Reed."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The third glass of bourbon had barely made a dent in Gibbs' foul mood. He was tired, frustrated, and plain old pissed off. Killing Childers should have been the end of this, it should have been enough to set Tony free and put him on track to getting his life back. Last night proved that wasn't to be the case. The bastard was still pulling strings from the grave. _Why can't life ever be easy?_

If the lead agent had learned one thing over the years it was that life was seldom fair, and if you expected it to be you were setting yourself up for extreme disappointment. The little boy who grew up in mansions without a mother and with a father who ignored him knew this all too well. But this current situation was ridiculous. Tony deserved a break; however, there was no sign he was going to get one any time soon.

Gibbs took the last swig of bourbon and threw the glass against the wall. It shattered and tinkled to the floor; unfortunately the silver-haired man felt no better for his effort. Sighing, he grabbed a broom and dustpan to clean up the mess he'd made.

The sound of the front door shutting caught his attention. Before the visitor made it to the top of the stairs he had already determined it was Ducky coming to see him. He had listened to the steps of the various people in his small circle of friends and teammates often enough to know each of them by the length of their strides and weight of their feet on the wooden flooring. He smiled to himself when the ME finally appeared.

"Jethro, I'm sorry to come by without calling but I really need to speak to you in person."

The lead agent placed the dustpan on the counter and leaned against the broom. "Is everything ok with Tony? Did something happen?"

"Is everything ok? No. Did something happen? Yes. Tony woke up and realized you weren't going to be coming to see him and was quite distressed by the news. He's insisting that it will be perfectly fine for you to visit. I'm not entirely convinced he's ready to deal with the extra stress of facing whatever Childers implanted in his head just yet, but you know Anthony." Ducky laughed indulgently. "He isn't listening to anyone who doesn't agree with him."

Gibbs put the broom back in the corner, straightened a few tools, picked up a nail and tapped it on the counter. "The doc said it wasn't a good idea for me to be around. He changed his mind?"

"Tony isn't leaving anyone much choice. I'm afraid keeping you away is getting him nearly as upset as having you there. The only way I could get him to calm down was to promise that you would be waiting in his room when he woke up. So I'm here to collect you."

Gibbs thinned his lips. "Are you sure about this, Ducky? How can you know he won't melt down again? I don't want to be responsible for that; he's been through enough already."

"I have no idea how he's going to react, Jethro. But I am certain our young friend needs to try and get past what Childers did to him and this is his first step toward knowing he can move on. We have to let him try; don't you agree?"

Gibbs gave a half-smile. "You're a smart man, Dr. Mallard."

Ducky's eyes crinkled with a small laugh. "That is something else I can absolutely agree with. Now come along, I promised Dr. Reed we would return quickly."

Gibbs dumped the broken glass in the trash and followed Ducky up the stairs.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

The room was semi-dark and a little cold; the only illumination came from a small light shining above Tony's bed. Gibbs had been sitting quietly watching Tony fitfully sleep for several hours. The younger man had mumbled several times, talking out loud to Childers, him, even DiNozzo Senior at various points. None of what he said made much sense, but it was disconcerting enough that Gibbs stood close whenever it happened and waited to see if he thought Tony needed help. He mentioned it to the doctor when he came in to check on him, but the physician assured Gibbs that Tony was just having vivid dreams and his vitals were acceptable for someone with his medical issues.

The choked gasp that prevented Gibbs from dozing off was a different matter. He immediately sat up on the edge of his seat, noting the change in breathing pattern and garbled sounds Tony was making. Gibbs sat silently, not knowing if he should make Tony aware of his presence or not.

After a few minutes he could see the green eyes staring at him.

"Hey, boss," Tony whispered, barely moving.

"Hey, DiNozzo, you doing ok?"

Tony closed his eyes and drifted for a while. "I'm sorry about before. I didn't mean to flip out." He opened his eyes again. "I didn't know if you'd want to come back, or if they'd let you."

"Ducky said you wanted me here, so I'm here. You know me better than that. When have I not been around when you needed me to be?"

Tony thought about that for a while. "Never," he said with a small smile.

He lapsed into silence, Gibbs listening as his breathing got shallower and more rapid. "You still with me?" Gibbs finally asked.

"Ye….yeah," Tony struggled out. "Just…..uh…..just….."

"Be honest with me, Tony. Is my being here too hard for you? Are you seeing things? Hearing things?"

Tony didn't answer for several minutes. "I can… deal with it." Gibbs could see that his face was sweaty and his eyes were scrunched together. He repositioned himself on the bed and let out a sharp intake of breath. "Kinda makes my head hurt some." He hesitated and lifted his hand to his ear. "They took that thing out…..right?" he asked nervously, briefly and inexplicably afraid the device was still there.

"Yeah, they took it out." Gibbs reassured him.

"Good. Still hurts….. but it's….it's ok." His voice sounded weak and thready; the lead agent could see him harshly sucking in air.

Gibbs stood and shook his head. "You aren't strong enough for this yet. I'll come back in a few days."

"No!" Tony's voice was immediately firmer and held a note of panic and fear. He coughed some, and Gibbs froze in place. It was one of the few times in his life he wasn't sure of what to do. It was obvious Tony wanted him to stay, but at the same time he was already getting more agitated. There was no clear answer to the dilemma that didn't end with Tony getting himself more and more distressed.

The senior field agent bit his lower lip. "I…I know what to do. I used to do…..it when Childers' had me….back there. It's just harder now…. Cause I'm so tired. Give me…. a few more minutes. Ok?"

Gibbs gave Tony a good look and realized he couldn't tell him no. The younger man's pale skin blended in with the white sheets and the white bandage on his head and the white hospital gown. He realized why Ducky had insisted he come; it was highly likely that if he continued to walk out the door whatever threads were holding his agent together would completely fall apart.

Tony had been gone so long, and Gibbs was so grateful to have him back; the silver-haired man couldn't deny him anything.

He changed direction and stepped closer to the bed. "Alright Tony, what are you trying to do here?"

Tony glanced up owlishly through his dark lashes. "It's kind of stupid."

"I seriously doubt that it's stupid, Tony," Gibbs said softly. He noticed that his agent's breathing had slowed a bit and he seemed somewhat calmer.

The edges of Tony's mouth turned up. "Whenever I couldn't take it anymore…..I started making myself think…about good things. Happy times. It didn't always work…..but sometimes it helped….if I concentrated hard enough." He shrugged self-consciously. "I told you it was stupid."

Gibbs felt both sad and proud at the same time. It was a simple and efficient solution to a difficult and complicated problem that Tony had been forced to deal with alone and without any resources other than his own will to survive. The lead agent eased down on the bed next to Tony's feet. DiNozzo's eyes were pinched again and they had the faraway look Gibbs didn't like. "What are you thinking about now?"

"The first time you bought me pizza."

A chuckle escaped Gibbs' lips at the unexpected answer. "You remember that?"

Tony appeared to be concentrating on breathing at a slow and steady rate. Gibbs was impressed. The heart monitor had sped up a little, but not too much, and DiNozzo seemed to be in control of his responses.

"We were on a stakeout…..in Baltimore. Our first case. We were so busy….I hadn't eaten in a couple of days." He wheezed out a short laugh. "You found out and got so mad. When you….got out of the car and left me…..sitting there I thought you were crazy."

"I couldn't have my new partner passing out on me."

"First time I told you…..DiNozzo's don't pass out."

Gibbs placed a hand on his leg. "You've proven that wrong about a dozen times."

"Then you showed back up…with that pizza. And somehow you knew…..how I liked it. I thought you were…..some kind of mind reader."

"Most of the time I'd be afraid to read your mind, DiNozzo."

Tony didn't answer, but put his hand to his head. "How'd….how'd you know…..the way….I liked my pizza?" His voice had dropped down to less than a whisper.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

"Bad….headache," the younger man choked out.

Gibbs pushed the call button on the side of the bed. Tony grabbed his hand before he had time to take it away. "Don't go, ok? If you can't stay…..he wins. Even dead, Childers gets what he wanted. I can't….let that happen. I won't….let that happen. Stay."

"I get it, Tony. I won't go anywhere."

Dr. Reed came in with a nurse; he listened intently while Gibbs explained the situation. "I think we can help out with the headache, Agent DiNozzo." He spoke to the nurse and ordered another dose of medication before lowering the bed into a more flat position. "You just had brain surgery, Tony; I think you're forgetting about that. Now, I'm going to ask Agent Gibbs to go and let you get back to what you need to be doing, which is nothing."

Tony's eyes latched onto Gibbs. "Doctor, could I speak to you for a moment?" the blue-eyed man asked. They stepped outside the small room and into the hallway.

"He made me promise to stay." Gibbs summarized briefly. "You know what happened to him. I think he's convinced himself that if I can't be around Childers still has control of his life. He wants to prove that isn't true."

Dr. Reed sighed. "I have two grown children myself, Agent Gibbs. Sometimes it isn't about giving them what they want, but giving them what they need."

"That's what I'm trying to do, doctor. Don't ever doubt that fact."

The physician glanced through the large window at the patient who was still struggling to keep his eyes open while the nurse continued to fuss over his IV's and blankets. "I wish we could get him to wait a few more days to get a bit stronger, but I suppose he's going to have to deal with this eventually. Better here where we can watch out for him if things get too intense. And I do have an admiration for a good stubborn streak. It could serve him well in the long run." The doctor placed a reassuring hand on Gibbs' back. "You can stay for now; however, if the situation becomes too much of a strain you'll have to go. With you and Dr. Mallard supporting him, I'm sure he'll get through this."

Gibbs nodded. "Thanks, doc. And just so you know, it's not only the two of us. There are four others who I'm sure will be around before too long. I thought I should I warn you." He smiled.

"Four more of you? I guess I can deal with that."

Gibbs didn't elaborate on the fact that out of the four, one was a former Mossad member and another was a very perky Goth. He'd let the physician find that out for himself.

Tony's anxious eyes widened as the two men re-entered the room.

Dr. Reed crossed his arms and looked at Tony sternly. "He can stay, but only if you do everything possible to follow my instructions. My main concern is getting you well, and that's going to involve some cooperation on your part."

"Whatever you say," Tony answered, glad to have been given what he wanted for a change.

"Good. How's the head? Any better?"

"So…some."

"Hmmmm. That wasn't said with very much confidence. I'll check again in about thirty minutes to see if there's any improvement. For now, more rest. No arguments."

DiNozzo gave a slight nod of agreement. After the doctor left, Gibbs leaned close to his field agent. "I have a deal for you."

"What?"

"If you go to sleep, when you wake up I'll give you one of my good memories to think about," the blue eyes twinkled, knowing he was offering something Tony couldn't resist.

"You would? You have….a good memory? About me?" The younger man yawned, starting to relax. "Tell me…now."

"Nope. Sleep first." The older man plopped into the tiny chair next to the bed and watched as Tony lost the fight to stay awake. It was one fight he was glad to see Tony finally lose.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Any change?" Ducky asked, entering the tiny cubicle later in the day. The ME's gaze fell on the pile of plastic coffee cups that were littering the wastebasket as well as the one clutched firmly in Gibbs' hand. "I do wish I could get you to switch to decaffeinated. All that caffeine can't be good for your system."

Gibbs snorted. "What would be the point of that?"

Dr. Mallard shook his head in exasperation.

Gibbs stood and stretched the kinks out of his back. "He's been asleep most of the day, but the doc says that's ok, that he'll probably be asleep more than he's awake for the next week or so. He kinda came around a couple of times when the nurse was in to do some stuff, but went right back out. She said his temperature was up a little and he's been coughing a lot, but she didn't seem too worried about it."

Ducky reviewed the monitors. "How did he respond to you being here?"

The lead agent leaned against the wall next to the window. "He did alright. Had to take some time to work out whatever was going on in his head, and got a pretty bad headache doing it, but he's not about to let that bastard Childers have his mind."

"I do detect a note of pride in your voice, Agent Gibbs," Dr. Mallard teased.

"Not many men could take what he has and come out of it even half as good. The sad thing is he can't see that about himself."

"Well then, we'll make him see it. That's part of what we're here for."

Ducky pulled up another chair and the old friends lapsed into a companionable silence, keeping a quiet vigil over their younger teammate who had been out of their sight far too long.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

_Tony was outside sitting in the grass. His feet were bare. There were a million daisies springing from the ground around him. He lay down on his back and stared up through the swaying branches of a tree._

_The sky was a brilliant blue like you see once or twice a summer; a few white clouds broke the expanse, existing only to illustrate the rich hue of the sky. The smell of honeysuckle caught his attention, and it reminded him of childhood summers before his mother died, when the world was different and the only thing that mattered was how far he could run and how high he could climb. He had forgotten what that felt like._

_He heard the sound of laughter in the distance. Sitting up, he saw Ziva, Abby, McGee, and Palmer walking toward him. He stood and waved, sticking his hands in his pockets and heading in their direction. He was excited to have his friends join him in this beautiful place._

_"Tony!" Abby yelled, bouncing up and down and calling his name._

_She abruptly stopped, a bloody hole appearing in her forehead. Her mouth formed a quiet "o" before she fell to the ground._

_"Abby!" Tony yelled, taking his hands from his pockets and running in their direction. Palmer was the next to fall, a hole in his neck. McGee screamed and started running, but a bullet in the back brought him down, too._

_Ziva looked at Tony, her eyes wide and accepting. He was so close to her, but knew that he would never make it in time to save her. "Goodbye, Tony," she said in her lilting accent, a tattered opening appearing between her eyes. She fell sideways, her body landing on a soft bed of flowers._

_"No!" he screamed and ran faster, finally making it to stand in the middle of his friend's lifeless bodies. He looked up for the shooter; the camouflage covered marine stepping into the open and raising his rifle to take aim at Tony._

"No! Gibbs, don't!" he cried out again and jerked upward, his eyes flinging open to find Gibbs and Ducky standing over him. Waking from a nightmare to have people staring at him was never a good way to come around.

He was shaking; his head was pounding, his ribs and chest were aching, his stomach was hurting.

"Hey, DiNozzo, look at me, are you ok?"

"I…..uh…don't…..what happened?" He slumped down on the pillows; his eyes rolling back in his head.

Ducky patted his cheek. "Come on Tony, don't do that. Stay with us."

Slowly Tony started blinking, trying to focus and stay awake. He was breathing heavily again.

"I'll go get Dr. Reed," Ducky offered, leaving the room.

"Tony, what were you dreaming about?" the silver-haired man asked.

The confusion was slowly fading from his face. "Nothing. It was…..nothing." Sweat covered his upper lip and forehead; he could tell by Gibbs' frown he wasn't buying it. "Don't make me tell you."

"You're going to have to talk about this eventually."

"No, no I told you…..I don't want to. It's not important….just dreams." He laughed nervously. "Let's talk about…..something real. You owe me, remember?" There was no way he would ever tell Gibbs the things Childers had made him see about him.

Ducky and Dr. Reed came in, interrupting them. The physician went through his routine of checking Tony's vitals and reviewing his responses. Tony leaned his head back and closed his eyes while the doctor continued his work. He felt like all the bones had been filleted from his body; he couldn't move if he tried.

Gibbs didn't like the way Tony's chest heaved up and down and the soft intermittent coughs that wouldn't stop. He also didn't like the way Tony had called out his name when he first woke up. There was a lot more to this than DiNozzo was letting on.

Dr. Reed sighed. "I'm going to up your oxygen some. How's your pain level?"

"I'm okay." The way Tony was scrunched up in the bed barely moving quickly revealed his lie.

"Really? You do realize that the small spot of pneumonia on your lung isn't that serious right now, but if you can't breathe deeply enough because of your ribs, it will get worse pretty fast. And that, as you well know, could be deadly. You have to be honest with me or I can't help you." The doctor raised his eyebrows and waited.

"My ribs are about a six or seven," Tony eventually mumbled.

"Thank you." He looked at the nurse who left the room to get something to reduce the pain. "You are proving to be quite the difficult patient, Agent DiNozzo. But I'm going to try and overlook that for now." He squeezed Tony's fingers and glanced up at Gibbs. "Call me if you need anything else."

"I'm going outside to speak with Dr. Reed for a few minutes," Ducky added, feeling that Tony might be more likely to talk to Gibbs if they were alone.

Gibbs pulled the chair next to Tony's bed and sat quietly for a few minutes. "I don't know if it's ever going to stop, boss," Tony whispered. "The nightmares, the voices. It's almost like I never left that place."

"It'll stop, Tony. You've got to give it some time." Tony was looking vacantly past his shoulder. "Alright, let's get your mind off it. Want to hear what I picked?"

Tony's eyes snapped back to Gibbs' face and he managed a weak grin. "Yeah, I want to hear it."

Gibbs pulled the sheet around Tony's chest and smoothed it down. He smiled. "The first time you stayed over at my place."

Tony started laughing and coughing at the same time. "That was….such a disaster. That's what you….picked?"

"Are you laughing at me DiNozzo?"

"No, boss, no. But I broke half your stuff, talked all evening, burnt dinner, and used up your hot water. You almost…..never let me stay again."

"Well, I might have exaggerated a little. It really wasn't that bad and you were decent enough company. I just couldn't ruin my reputation as a bastard by making you think I liked having you around or anything. At least back then."

Tony smiled. "What movie did I make you watch?" Sleepiness was already creeping back into his voice.

"That awful Terminator crap with Arnold Schwarzenegger," Gibbs answered immediately.

"It's a classic, boss."

"If you say so, DiNozzo. I prefer Clint Eastwood or John Wayne." He rubbed Tony's arm. "Feeling better?"

"Yeah. Thanks for staying." He was already slipping away again. "You better think of something else, in case I have another nightmare."

Gibbs shook his head. "It's your turn this time, Tony."

The younger agent gave him a drowsy smile. "I already have it picked out." His grin grew wider. "Fishing."

"Fishing?" Gibbs repeated. The only time they had gone fishing was at Childers' place; he was surprised Tony would want to remember anything that happened there. The nurse came back and added something to the IV; Tony watched her through half-slitted eyes.

"It was fun, boss. I like it when you teach me stuff. Maybe we can go again for real some time."

"When you get out of here I'll take you anywhere you want to go, DiNozzo. A supervised vacation is probably the only kind you're going to get from now on anyway."

Tony exhaled deeply. "That's a dangerous promise…. boss. Maybe… I can make myself… dream about that."

"That's a good idea, DiNozzo. And tell me all about it when you wake up." Tony had already faded back into twilight. Gibbs just hoped that wherever he had gone to, all his dreams were good ones.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony's eyes perked open when Ziva, McGee, and Abby entered his room. He had finally been moved from ICU, so they were allowed to visit for more than a few minutes.

Abby made her usual boisterous entrance. "How are you feeling, sweetie? Any better?" She sped over to give him a gentle hug.

"I'm ok, Abs." He tried to sound convincing but the look in Ziva's eyes told him he'd fallen short of his goal.

Abby twisted her lips, indicating she wasn't falling for it either. "I brought you something." His friend was eager to lighten the mood. The Goth scientist searched in her bag and pulled out a black knit cap with a skull and crossbones embroidered on the front; only Abby would buy it and Tony certainly had no intention of wearing it. "Just until your hair grows out. I was worried your head might get cold."

Before he could find the energy to protest she leaned over and tugged the tight fitting hat over his stubbly skull, careful to avoid the bandages where the implant had been removed. Tony saw McGee's eyes sparkle. "Not a word, Probie," he threatened.

"I think you look adorable," Ziva said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"See McGee, adorable," Tony agreed half-heartedly.

"I didn't say anything," the junior agent grinned, wondering how he could sneak out his cell phone for a picture. This could definitely be future blackmail material.

Tony shifted restlessly again; frustrated that he couldn't get himself into a comfortable position. They had taken the tube out of his neck and added one into his nose, and he had to be careful not to pinch or pull any of the leads or wires that were still attached to him. Ziva watched him fidget for a few minutes before moving to his side.

"McGee," she directed the younger man to the other side of the bed with her head. "Abby, can you adjust the pillow?" the Israeli asked.

"Sure." Abby moved in next to Ziva.

"What are you doing?" Tony inquired skeptically.

"Helping," she responded. She took one of his arms and McGee took the other; at her nod they lifted him higher on the bed while Abby grabbed the pillow and shoved it up to match his new position. They helped him settle in; Ziva found another blanket in one of the closets and tucked it around his lanky body, somehow sensing that he still wasn't warm enough. The lack of body fat left him freezing most of the time.

"Thanks," Tony said, somewhat embarrassed that he needed help to do such simple things. He was reassured by the fact none of his teammates seemed to care that he was weaker than a two-year old. He decided not to complain and enjoy the fact that for the time being he was comfortable and cozy.

His friends draped themselves in various spots around the room and talked for a while about cases, sports, and Abby's bowling score, everyone careful to avoid the topic of where Tony had been for the last few months. Ducky had informed them that Tony was still experiencing nightmares and flashbacks, and they didn't want to do anything to cause an attack.

McGee picked absently at a band-aid on his index finger. After observing him pluck and pull at the small bandage, Tony finally said, "Would you like some morphine for that injury, McBooBoo? I might be able to squeeze a little extra out of this tube. What happened? A paper cut?"

The junior agent shook his head. Tony must not be feeling too bad if he was up to harassing him. "No, DiNozzo. If you have to know I accidentally hit my finger with a staple."

"You stapled your own finger?" Abby clarified.

"It was a big stack of papers! The stapler slipped when I pushed down…..and I really don't have to explain this to any of you if I don't want to," he said, a little flustered by the two women smirking at him and Tony getting obvious enjoyment out of his mishap.

"It could happen to…..anybody." Tony teased.

"Yeah, well Tony maybe you can requisition us all Mighty Mouse staplers like yours when you get back to the office. Then it won't be a problem."

The smile on Tony's face immediately dropped away. Ziva and Abby leveled murderous stares at the often less than tactful computer genius.

"If I ever get to come back to work, I'll put that on top of my to-do list, Tim." Tony stated softly. For him to ever be called a federal agent again was a long-shot and Tony knew it. He'd be lucky to find a job as a rent-a-cop in the mall.

"I'm sorry, Tony," McGee apologized quickly. "I'm sure it'll all work out. I didn't mean to…..sometimes I'm really stupid."

Tony gave him a half-smile and pulled the cap off his head. "It's ok, Tim. It's not your fault my life is a screwed-up mess."

Abby sat on the edge of the bed and gently squeezed him. "Don't worry, Tony. Gibbs will figure out what to do. We can't be a team without you."

He let her hold his head against her chest, and tried to find a place deep in his heart where he believed she was right.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Despite himself DiNozzo was unable to stay awake for very long so he wasn't aware when his visitors silently slipped from the room. His heavy eyes opened once more to the sound of a Scottish accent. "Ah, there you are, my boy. I was beginning to think we would have to visit another time."

Having people come and go while he slept was getting annoying. It was more irritating that Ducky wasn't alone; another doctor Tony had never met before stood next to him. Tony cleared his throat; the ME insisted he drink some water before he introduced the new visitor. The agent tried not to show his frustration while Ducky fussed, holding a cup and straw and prattling on about dehydration, malnutrition and the like. Eventually the elderly physician was satisfied that his "favorite living patient" was ready for them to continue with the purpose of the visit.

"Anthony," Dr. Mallard began, "this is Dr. Alan Shea. He'd like to talk to you about your recent experience."

Tony sighed; he'd wondered how long it would be before they brought a shrink in to see him. "I don't need to talk."

Ducky leaned down next to the bed and spoke softly. "Anthony, we know that you've been having nightmares; it isn't like you can hide anything here."

"Yeah, Ducky, I'm pretty aware of that. It still doesn't mean I want to talk about it. No offense." He glanced at the new doctor.

"None taken. I can understand wanting to avoid the subject," the psychiatrist agreed. "But Dr. Mallard has told me you've been having particularly strong reactions to someone close to you, and I might be able to help you deal with that. I would think that facing the problem head-on would be better than having this response to the person forever."

Tony eyed the man skeptically. He was doing better at being around Gibbs, especially since he had pretty much made the ex-marine stay with him non-stop until today, when Ducky had finally insisted that a shower and change of clothes were no longer an option for the older man. There hadn't been any major freak-outs since the first day; just minor meltdowns that he had managed to handle ok. But he hadn't been able to stop the voices completely, and the nightmares were a regular occurrence.

There was also the issue with his career that had been plaguing him. It had been on his mind even before McGee so thoughtfully brought it up. He expected Vance to walk in any minute and officially inform him of his dismissal; there was no way anyone who had been arrested for trying to kill the director and assaulting a police officer could ever stay employed at a federal agency. He feared his future involved convenience stores and selling Caf Pows.

"Agent DiNozzo?" The psychiatrist broke into his thoughts. "Why don't you just give me a chance, and if you don't think it helps or want to continue I'll leave you alone. Plus, there's something about me that might just break the ice." He grinned. "Ohio State, 1980. I can't say that I played football, but I was in the band and played the tuba."

Tony appraised him with a new found appreciation. "Did you ever dot the I?"

Dr. Shea grinned goofily. "Besides when I got married and had my kids, it was the best day of my life."

Tony considered that to be the most impressive credentials of any psychiatrist he'd ever met. Since he was willing to do almost anything to stop dreaming about Gibbs trying to kill him, the fact the shrink went to The Ohio State University and marched with The Best Damn Band In The Land pretty much sealed the deal. "Ok, I'll give it a shot, but I'm not making any promises."

"You won't regret it, Tony," the doctor assured him.

Ducky smiled. "Since that's settled, I'll leave you two alone to get better acquainted. You're doing the right thing, Anthony."

DiNozzo let himself sink down into the pillows. He might be doing the right thing, but he wasn't sure that in the long run it would do much good for a washed-up, has-been federal agent with no marketable skills or idea what his future held.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Come on, Tony, we're just going a few feet to the chair. It's not that far," the nurse encouraged.

The woman with a sunny disposition but the heart of a drill instructor was helping Tony across the floor with the assistance of an orderly. Tony's weak muscles were not making it an easy trip for him, and he hated the way he had to grip their hands so tightly just to keep from falling down. A wave of vertigo passed over him and he suddenly felt his legs giving out.

"It's alright, Tony, we made it." They quickly dropped him in the seat just as he broke out in a cold sweat. The nurse grabbed a blanket and placed it snugly around his legs and reappeared with a glass of water. "Drink this, you'll feel better. You've been in bed a while and your body has to get used to being in an upright position again. How are you doing?"

"I'm fine," he muttered. The entire situation was becoming more than he could tolerate. Gibbs sat down on the bed across from him.

"Doctor Reed said you started eating again today."

Tony looked up miserably. "I don't consider brown slop to be food. You should try it some time; it'll make you appreciate things like brussel sprouts and asparagus." He still had the nasogastric tube attached, since they weren't sure how much food he'd actually be able to tolerate and expected him to need supplemental nutrition for some time. Gibbs had expected Tony to be glad about the small physical improvements, like being able to eat and get out of bed, but it was obvious the younger man's disposition had turned foul and cranky.

"Just keep at it, Tony. Once you get yourself up and going, you know you're welcome back at my place. It'll be a lot better than staying here."

Tony sighed. "Thanks."

"You don't sound overjoyed. Got some other plans I don't know about?"

His agent gave him an expression filled with mixed emotions: gratitude, fear, and anxiety all seemed to vie for an upper hand. Tony was always excited about coming home with him, and he should definitely look forward to getting out of the hospital, so Gibbs wasn't sure what was causing the unusual response.

"Something bothering you?"

Tony chewed his lip and shrugged. "Just getting restless, I guess. It's been awhile since I've done anything productive. But I'm alright." He provided a small smile as evidence of his being fine. Gibbs narrowed his eyes, aware that something was definitely off, but not sure exactly what.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Dr. Shea, Dr. Reed, Ducky, and Gibbs sat at a tiny table in the cafeteria and sipped from flimsy Styrofoam cups. The ME was drinking earl grey tea, while the doctors frowned at their murky dark brown beverages. Gibbs tilted his head and kept sipping, not unhappy with the taste of his coffee. The stronger the better, in his opinion.

Dr. Reed cleared his throat. "I wanted to talk to you about Tony's progress; or rather lack there-of. He's been here over a week, and he has improved somewhat. The pneumonia is clearing up, and both his spleen and craniotomy incision appear to be healing nicely. Despite those bright spots, his lungs are still not building back to capacity and he has yet to eat any significant amount of solid food. I'm concerned that he isn't putting much weight back on and appears less than interested in the breathing exercises necessary to improve his lungs. I'm not sure what to do at this point, which is the reason I wanted to let all of you have the opportunity to help figure out the issue we're facing."

Ducky sat his cup down. "I have noticed that Anthony seems depressed. He's doing much better at not having any physical reactions when Gibbs is around, and he is sleeping more soundly, but in the last few days he's been rather dejected and less talkative than I would expect considering his improvements." He looked over at the psychiatrist. "Dr. Shea, has he given you any indication of what might be troubling him?"

"Nothing that stands out. He's been cooperative during our meetings and has tried most of the therapeutic suggestions I've made to deal with his anxiety issues. He has been more distant and withdrawn the last few days, but I haven't been able to get him to reveal why."

Dr. Reed took a drink of his coffee and grimaced. "He almost appears to not care if he gets any better or not, like he isn't even trying anymore. The nutritionist says he won't make any effort to eat and the physical therapist has nearly given up on getting him to do anything. I'll admit I'm surprised; I thought he'd be one of those patients who was so eager to get well he'd do everything we asked and more."

The psychiatrist leaned back in his chair, trying to pinpoint the problem. "It could be a form of survivor's guilt; he might feel like he shouldn't have gotten his life back when the other men Childers' targeted didn't. He's very reluctant to talk about what he intends to do after he gets well; whether he'll try to get his job back or…"

Gibbs, who hadn't said a word, suddenly stood up. "I know what's wrong. Tell Tony I had to go to the office and I'll be back."

He purposefully walked toward the door, throwing his cup in the trash on the way out.

Ducky stood and ran after him. "Jethro! What are you planning to do?"

"I'm gonna fix this, Duck. I should've seen it days ago. Just keep an eye on DiNozzo and call me if he needs anything."

The double doors to the cafeteria whooshed behind him. Leroy Jethro Gibbs had a mission to accomplish, and he had already delayed it far too long.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: I do not own or profit from NCIS.**

**Author's Note: Well, here it is, the last chapter. I hope I summed it up nicely. Again, there's an archaic 80's television reference, but I think Tony and I have the same taste in shows, so I had to throw it in. Look it up or ask me if you're too young to remember! Some people have wondered if I'm working on anything else. Not yet, but I'll try to put information on my profile when I start a new story and give some idea when it might be finished. It would be a few months at the earliest.**

**I've loved all your comments and will miss hearing from you. Let me know what you think about our last chapter. Thank you for your continued kind wishes and support!**

**TLH**

"Has the light been bothering you?" Dr. Shea asked when he entered Tony's room. The shades were drawn and the lights were turned off. Tony was lying on his side with his hand under the pillow; he glanced up at the psychiatrist without raising his head.

Before the agent could reply a nurse entered. "Dinnertime," she said airily, waving a bag in the air. She efficiently attached the tube coming from Tony's nose to the bag and hung it on the IV pole. She checked his pulse and blood pressure before making a few notes on her chart. "Do you want me to open the blinds?" she asked.

"No," Tony answered softly.

"Alright, Tony. Whatever you want." She smiled at the doctor before quietly leaving.

Dr. Shea pulled a chair close to the bed and sat down. "I see Abby's been to visit." He picked up a hat from the small pile that had accumulated on the nightstand; this one was bright orange with a black spider on the front.

Tony looked at the soft knitted hat; it made him feel good and bad at the same time. He loved that Abby cared so much about him that nearly every time she came to visit she brought a new one; he had nine or ten now caps now, each one uglier than the last. She didn't seem to mind that he hadn't worn any of them yet. It depressed him to know that he wouldn't get to see her anymore after he was no longer a federal agent.

Of course, even after he was fired Abby would continue to try and find ways to spend time with him; they all would. But the truth of it was that without the connection of work, slowly his relationship with the Goth and the other members of the team would fade away. He wouldn't have a Probie anymore, Ziva would run out of excuses to see him, Palmer would continue with his medical studies, Ducky would call every now and then out of obligation, and Gibbs would find a new senior field agent to headslap. Everything would change and he'd have to start over again, just like he had so many times before.

"Tony," Dr. Shea said, breaking through the stillness. "Why don't you tell me what's bothering you."

"There isn't anything to talk about," he replied, barely raising his voice. That was the problem with shrinks; they thought somehow talking could fix everything. Talking about this problem wasn't going to make it go away, so he didn't see the point.

The psychiatrist tilted his head and leaned forward. "Your attitude has changed over the last few days, Tony. Dr. Reed is extremely concerned about the way your recovery has stagnated. He says you should be eating more and moving around on your own, but that isn't happening. I'm worried about how you've stopped communicating with your friends and have withdrawn into yourself. I thought you and I had gotten to a point where you might tell me why you don't seem interested in getting better."

Tony pushed himself farther into the bed, refusing to look at the man. "I don't have an appetite; I can't help that. And I'm too tired to do anything. You make it sound like I feel this way on purpose."

The doctor shook his head and placed his hand on Tony's arm. "No one gets depressed on purpose, Tony, but you can't hide here forever. What are you afraid of?"

Tony closed his eyes. "I'm not afraid and I'm not depressed; I just don't want to talk tonight. I'm getting sick of everyone trying to make me do things I don't want to. I'm still capable of making some decisions for myself."

"No one said you can't. The problem is that your current decisions are impacting your health. If you don't start eating on your own Dr. Reed is going to recommend inserting a tube into your stomach; it's the only way he can make sure you get the nutrition you need. Is that what you want?"

Tony didn't say anything for a few minutes. "I want you to go away and let me go to sleep."

"Listen, Tony…."

Tony turned away from him again. "No, I'm not listening. I'm not interested in your psychoanalysis tonight. So please, go away and leave me alone."

"You have a lot of people who care about you Tony. You don't have to do this by yourself. All you have to do is tell us what's wrong so we can help you. It's not that hard."

The agent rolled onto his back. "That's what you don't understand. I am alone; I've always been alone. After my mother died I never had a real family; just me and my dad and whatever wealthy bimbo he was married to at the time. I'm used to it."

"What about Agent Gibbs? From what I can tell he's more like a father to you than a boss. He's not going to abandon you."

Tony bit his lip. "Maybe he won't have a choice."

Dr. Shea shook his head. "I don't think you're right about that, Tony. I don't think anything would make Gibbs turn his back on you. Just because your father didn't live up to his obligations doesn't mean Gibbs will disappoint you, too."

Tony wanted to believe the doctor; he wanted to believe that if he wasn't an NCIS agent anymore he would still be part of their family and that Gibbs would still be there for him. He just couldn't convince himself that was true. Gibbs was the job, just like him. The older man wouldn't be able to take time away from the work that was his life to play daddy to him once he was off the team. No matter how much Gibbs cared about him, it couldn't last in the long run. He had proven that by going back to the office before Tony had even been released from the hospital.

"I know Gibbs isn't like my father; he's ten times the man my dad ever thought about being. It doesn't mean I shouldn't be realistic," Tony finally said. "Sometimes things turn out a certain way and there isn't anything you can do about it."

The physician squeezed his arm reassuringly. "If you gave Gibbs and your other friends a chance you might find out they care about Anthony DiNozzo the person, not Anthony DiNozzo the senior field agent. No strings attached," the doctor countered.

"There are always strings," Tony muttered, unable to hide his sullen and weary tone. "We just don't always realize it until one of them gets cut." He felt like all the strings that connected him to his life had been severed, and he was floating around on the wind looking for a solid place to land when the only thing beneath him was a wide, unending ocean.

Tony took a deep breath against the storm of emotions he was feeling. The unpleasant conversation was making him queasy; on top of everything else his stomach wasn't enjoying the gooey meal that was sliding down into it in a continuous stream. His not quite recovered digestive system had decided to rebel against both the food and the discussion.

The psychiatrist noticed his green tinted and clammy skin. Tony swallowed around a lump building in his throat. "Are you ok?" the doctor asked with concern.

"Could you get a nurse?" Tony said suddenly. "I think I'm going to be sick."

By the time Dr. Shea called the nurse into the room, Tony was gritting his teeth in an effort to keep the small amount of food from forcing its way back up his throat. Recognizing his symptoms, she immediately stopped the feeding and picked up a basin. "Alright, Tony, let's sit you up some." She raised the bed and took up position beside her pale and sweaty patient. "Dr. Shea, you might need to go now," she said, deciding the young man didn't need someone watching him.

Reluctantly, the doctor agreed and moved toward the door. "We'll talk some more tomorrow, Tony."

He wasn't surprised when Tony didn't make an effort to reply. He left the room feeling like he had completely failed at getting through to the patient who very much needed to deal with his future, whatever that future might hold.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Leroy Jethro Gibbs stalked down the hospital corridor with long strides and clear purpose; others traveling in the opposite direction hugged the wall in an effort to let him pass. The set of his jaw and crease between his eyes made it clear that he was not in a mood to be trifled with. He shoved the double doors of the neurology wing open and stomped over to Ducky, who was waiting for him in a corner near a potted plant and as far away from anyone else as he could get.

"Well? What self-destructive thing has he done now?" the lead agent demanded.

"Calm down, Jethro. He hasn't done anything yet, that's why I called you. He is however, threatening to sign himself out AMA."

"What brought this on? He can't even walk to the bathroom and back by himself."

"I don't know why he decided to make this grand bid for freedom. Yesterday, he was barely talking to anyone and seemed content to stay curled up in bed feeling sorry for himself. Today, he woke up demanding to get out of here as fast as he can."

"What does Dr. Shea have to say about it?"

"Based on some of Tony's comments, the doctor believes our young man is worried about what happens to him next. To some extent, he's been sabotaging his own recovery in order to prevent having to deal with the consequences of what Professor Childers made him do, which explains why he's been refusing to eat and participate in physical therapy. As long as he's still sick he doesn't have to face the fact that he might very well no longer hold the job he has so dearly loved."

Gibbs crossed his arms. "He hasn't been fired yet. And even if he was, it wouldn't make a difference to me."

The ME sighed. "Do you think Tony believes that, Jethro? It's hard enough to convince the boy he's cared about when we see him every single day." Ducky crossed his arms. "If he were no longer a federal agent, no longer a member of this team, he would not only lose his identity, but in his mind the direct link to us would be lost. He would be losing his family as well. Childers will have taken everything away from him that he ever cared about."

The silver-haired agent walked to the other side of the small waiting room before turning back toward Ducky. "Does he actually think we, _I_,would just desert him if he couldn't be an agent anymore? I know how hard that would be for him to accept and I'm not so much of a bastard that I'd just kick him to the curb after something like that."

Dr. Mallard shrugged. "I honestly don't know what he's thinking right now; his behavior is rather erratic. They removed the nasogastric tube last night at his insistence, which Dr. Reed agreed to since it has been making his stomach upset and he had a rather unpleasant vomiting episode. But as far as I know he still hasn't eaten anything which has everyone very concerned. His medical team has recommended at least another week in hospital, and then his release will need to be closely supervised. It is absolutely imperative that we make him stay."

"Alright, Duck, I'll take care of it."

"You sound like a poker player with a card up his sleeve," his old friend guessed.

Gibbs gave him his infamous half-smile. "Maybe even two or three."

When the two men entered the hospital room, Tony was sitting on the edge of the bed, his skinny legs sticking out of his hospital gown and his arms folded across his chest. He had removed the bandage covering the incision leaving his head bare except for a tiny layer of brown fuzz that now covered his skull. All the wires and monitors were tossed around on the sheets, and a slight smear of blood on his arm indicated where he had pulled the IV out. Two doctors, a nurse and an orderly were standing several feet away appearing very unhappy with the patient.

His eyes widened slightly when Gibbs appeared in the doorway with Ducky; his shocked expression was quickly replaced with a look of grim defiance. "I guess it was time to bring the big guns out, huh? You aren't going to change my mind, boss. I'm tired of being here and I want to go home."

Tony knew he sounded petulant and whiny, but he didn't care. It had been weeks since he'd seen the inside of his apartment, and he missed his stereo, his television, his couch. When he'd seen the blue sky out the window this morning all he could think about was getting out of this place. For some reason the need to be by himself overwhelmed him; he wanted nothing more than to be away from all these people watching him twenty-four hours a day.

"We've tried to explain to Tony that he is no condition to go home now. Even though we removed the feeding tube yesterday like he asked, he's continued to refuse to eat anything. Not only does he need to stay here, but if his nutritional issues aren't resolved soon we're going to have to insert a gastric tube," Dr. Reed explained tersely. "There is no way he should leave."

Tony shook his head and placed his hands on the bed to hold himself up. "You won't do anything without my permission. I'm done with all this and I'm going home. You can't stop me if that's what I want to do." Tony glared insolently.

Dr. Shea spoke up. "Tony, you've been doing really well; the nightmares are gone and you've made a lot of progress, both mentally and physically. I can't understand why you need to leave all of the sudden. Another week isn't going to make that much difference."

It didn't make sense to anyone, let alone him. All he knew was that the walls were closing in and he had to get the hell away from everyone. It didn't help that all he could think about was how this entire saga had destroyed his life and his career, and soon he'd be left with nothing. There wasn't one thing that could be done to change it. He shrugged, seeing no point in explaining the obvious. "I _need_ to go home," was all he said.

Gibbs stepped forward, his ice blue eyes meeting Tony's. "Let him go."

Doctor Reed snapped his head around in surprise. "Are you sure you heard me, Agent Gibbs? It's medically inadvisable. He'll end up right back here in the hospital worse off than he is now."

"Tony knows what he can do and what he can't. If he wants to go, let him go." The lead agent turned and rummaged through a drawer, pulling out some clothes. He tossed them at Tony, who managed to catch the pair of sweats and NCIS t-shirt. "He's a big boy."

DiNozzo clenched the clothes in his hands and contained his shock at the older man's unconcerned response. He could play Gibbs' game. "Right. Thanks."

Holding his clothes in one hand, he placed the other on the bed and gently eased his feet to the floor. He flicked his eyes over at the group of people watching him find his balance. It was infuriating that even being upright made him dizzy and disoriented, but he refused to give them the satisfaction of seeing him sway.

Setting out across the cold tile, he eventually teetered to the side; Dr. Shea moved to reach out a hand and steady him. Gibbs touched the concerned psychiatrist's arm and shook his head slightly, making it clear that if Tony wanted to do this he was on his own. Tough love was just that; tough.

Slowly, DiNozzo made it to the bathroom. Several long minutes later he emerged, dressed in clothes that were two sizes too big and made him look even worse than he had in the hospital gown. A light sheen of sweat covered his skin, but he seemed more determined than ever to follow through with leaving. Standing in the door to the bathroom, he licked his lips before continuing on, shuffling to the nightstand where he stopped momentarily, looking for a moment like he might fall. Several members of his audience glanced at Gibbs, who stoically stood his ground, and none of them moved to intervene.

Tony pointed a finger at them and smiled. "I am fine," he said, "and I will see all of you later."

It would have been much more effective if he could've strutted out of the room, and he knew his tight movements were less than impressive. Outside the door, he leaned against the wall and closed his eyes, letting his guard down so he could catch his breath before slowly starting out again.

Ducky leveled a displeased gaze at Gibbs. "If I had known this is how you intended to handle the situation, I wouldn't have been so eager to bring you along. Are you seriously going to just stand here and let this happen? He can barely walk."

"Do you actually think telling him to stay was going to work? When he's in this kind of mood, he has to learn the hard way."

Dr. Mallard sighed. "You're probably right, but I do hate to see the boy struggle so."

"Me, too, Duck. How far do you think he'll get?"

"Not far. You saw how weak and shaky he was. He'll be lucky to make it out the front doors before collapsing," the ME commented.

Gibbs thinned his lips and rolled his eyes before addressing the medical personnel in the room. "Wait here. I'll go after him."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony lay his head against the cool elevator wall and blew out a breath. Going home had seemed like a good idea at the time, but he hadn't considered how difficult it would be on his own. Having to leave the hospital without any help hadn't occurred to him, which showed just how off his game he was. But that was fine. He knew Gibbs was setting him up; he'd seen the older man do it to suspects a hundred times before. He could do this. He'd call a cab, go back to his apartment, put on a movie and curl up on his sofa. Lying around there wouldn't be any different than lying around in the hospital.

The elevator opened and he stepped out, glancing left and right to get his bearings before heading down the hall. It was a few minutes before he realized he was on the wrong floor; he wasn't anywhere near the exit. All the halls looked exactly the same and he couldn't figure out which direction would get him back to the elevator. He was sweating harder now, and his breathing was heavier; he wiped his forehead with his hand as the corridor in front of him stretched out for miles. His ribs and his stomach ached in unison.

"Are you ok?" an orderly asked, concerned at the man's grey pallor.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good."

He picked a direction and walked, his feet suddenly feeling like numb, disconnected stumps. Blackness ate at the edges of his vision as the lightheaded sensation swept a cold chill through him. He vaguely wondered how long it had been since he pulled out that IV drip. Maybe there was something in it he needed after all.

Stumbling into the wall, his knees buckled and he landed on his ass. A female voice asked if he needed help, but he couldn't get his brain to work enough to answer. The feminine voice was replaced by a gruffer tone; then someone patted his cheek. He ran a rubbery hand along his scalp. "Go away," he mumbled resentfully.

"Come on, DiNozzo. You're too heavy to carry back so I brought a wheelchair."

The next thing he knew he was being hauled off the floor into the waiting chair. He was so out of it at that point he couldn't argue with the silver-haired abductor who whisked him quickly down the hallway and into the elevator without another word.

Back in the room he lost all control of his destiny; he was stripped, the gown was tied back on, and he was assisted into bed where all the various leads and monitors were reattached. He heard someone talking about his glucose bottoming out or something like that, but he couldn't focus on anything and found himself drifting around in a foggy haze. Eventually he couldn't fight the need to sleep, and a tiny part of his brain suspected he'd been sedated as further punishment for his brief attempt at escaping.

By the time his mind decided to rejoin him, the soft light of evening was sifting through the window. Another day was gone; the realization depressed him and did nothing to lift his already black mood. He stared out at the sky streaked with dark pink and purple clouds and sighed, wondering if he would ever have a normal life again. Maybe one more week wasn't a big deal to all of them, but they got to go home and sleep in their own beds, drive their cars, and do whatever they wanted whenever they wanted. He hadn't had those simple luxuries in so long he could barely remember them.

Movement in the corner of the room caught his attention.

"What are you still doing here?" Tony asked the lead agent who was sitting in a chair with his legs crossed.

"Somebody had to make sure you didn't try to run again."

"If I could run, believe me I would be out of here." Tony didn't try to hide his irritation.

Gibbs stood and crossed the floor to a tray at the side of the bed and pushed it over in front of Tony. He picked up a remote and raised the bed so Dinozzo was in a sitting position behind the tray. The younger man eyeballed the small bowl of chocolate brown pudding-like substance placed in front of him. Gibbs sat down on the edge of the bed and picked up a spoon, scooped up a helping of jiggly mocha, and held it out toward Tony.

"You've got to be kidding," Tony said, clamping his lips shut.

"Somebody has to make you eat. You don't seem to be doing a very good job of it yourself."

DiNozzo just stared at him.

"If you don't eat it I'll hold your nose and stuff it down your throat. Your choice."

Tony looked around, trying to determine if there was a way to get out of letting the ex-marine force-feed him. "You really would do it, wouldn't you?"

Gibbs blue eyes never blinked. "Yep."

Grudgingly, DiNozzo opened his mouth and let Gibbs stick the spoon inside. "Gag," he said around the mouthful of pudding. "I want you to know that tastes awful."

Gibbs shrugged and fished around in the bowl with the spoon. "So why the starvation act? I thought you wanted to get out of here; they aren't going to let you go when you're barely eating enough to keep a hamster alive."

"I'm not hungry. It's hard to make yourself eat when you have no appetite. Then there's always the issue of the cuisine."

Gibbs poked another wobbly spoonful at his mouth, which Tony accepted reluctantly.

They sat in stony silence for a while, Tony morosely picking at the blanket. Gibbs could tell he wanted to say something, and decided to wait him out.

Eventually, Tony peered up at him, his expression a mixture of fear and anguish. "I figured you hadn't been around much the last few days because you didn't want to be the one to tell me I'm fired." His voice was soft and defeated.

The lead agent leaned back and sat the spoon down. "Is that what you thought? That you were done as a federal agent and I didn't have the guts to tell you?"

Tony backpedaled. "Not that you didn't have the guts, of course you have the guts. Maybe you just….didn't want to be the one to destroy my career, watch my life crumble around me, that kind of thing. I mean, what would you want with a washed up ex-agent anyway?" Tony wouldn't meet his eyes.

"Oh, well, in that case." Gibbs shook his head and softened his gaze as well as his tone. "You really think I'd let them fire you? And then I'd walk away and leave you alone?"

DiNozzo leaned his head back against the pillow in frustration. "Do I need to give you a recap of the last few weeks? How I broke in the Director's house and tried to shoot him? Assaulted a police officer? Disappeared and had my brain scrambled by a crazy psycho scientist? That's not exactly the type of things the government is looking for on a resume. I mean come on; if you aren't going to sack me, I'm sure Vance will take care of it."

"Yeah, Vance should come see you soon, but not to tell you you're out of a job." Gibbs scooped up another spoon of pudding and shoved it between DiNozzo's lips. He swallowed slowly, trying to follow what Gibbs was talking about.

"I don't understand. You have to fire me after all this. That's all I've been thinking about for a week and there's no way around it. Vance might not want to do it, but he doesn't have an alternative." Tony's brow furrowed in confusion.

Gibbs surprised him with a Cheshire cat smile that revealed he knew something Tony didn't. "Just because I haven't been here much the last couple of days doesn't mean I've been sitting on my ass doing nothing. Good senior field agents don't grow on trees, so I had to make sure I could hang on to mine."

"What did you do?" Another bite of pudding slipped into his mouth, but Tony wasn't paying any attention.

"Ah, nothing much; just visiting a few people with Vance. It seems that no one wants to take responsibility for letting Childers off his leash so they'd rather keep the whole fiasco quiet. Your little escapade has been officially listed as an undercover assignment for NCIS in conjunction with the CIA and Homeland Security; the details of the op are classified, but I think if the Director makes a few more calls you might even be up for a commendation."

The blue eyes twinkled as he held another bite of pudding out which Tony ate on autopilot. The younger man was so surprised that he might actually still have a career that he didn't know how to react.

"I'm not being fired? I still have a job? Are you serious?"

"Have you ever known me not to be serious?" Gibbs deadpanned.

Tony tilted his head. "Good point." His eyes turned watery even as his lips tilted up at the corners in a small smile. "I thought it was over; that everything I've worked for was gone. You understand boss; no wife, no kids; no prospects," he grinned self-consciously. "For the wife and kids at least. I might get a little goofy sometimes, but all I have is the job. When I thought that was over; I guess it's been making me act kind of crazy."

"You still have the job, DiNozzo; that is as long as you get yourself released from the hospital and back at work. The docs say you could be on desk duty in three or four weeks if you start eating and putting your all into physical therapy. Think you can do that?"

Tony ate the next bite of pudding without complaint. "I can do that," he agreed readily, unable to hide his excitement at the prospect of eventually going back to work.

Gibbs scraped the bowl for the last morsel. "It wouldn't matter, you know."

"What wouldn't matter?" Sometimes having a conversation with Gibbs gave him whiplash; there were too many twists and turns.

"If you weren't an agent anymore." Gibbs held out the spoon; Tony slowly ate the last of the pudding. It dawned on him that he'd just let the lead agent feed him his dinner like a toddler. He felt the heat rise up on his cheeks as he flushed with embarrassment.

"I'd still be here, Tony. I'd still be your friend and I wouldn't let you go through it by yourself. I'll always have your six, job or not. And as long as I'm around you will always have a home to go back to. Why is it so hard for you to understand that?"

Tony let his eyes drop. "I don't know, boss. It's just…..I guess if we didn't have work to go to every day, I mean, why…why would you have any reason to keep me around? It's not like….." he bit the inside of his cheek before continuing. "It's not like I'm your real son or anything." His words were so soft Gibbs could barely hear them.

The lead agent took a deep breath and let it out. "Blood isn't all that ties people together, Tony. It's who you are inside that would make me want to keep you around; not just the fact you work with me. You've become much more to me than just an agent. You're a part of my family and families stick together no matter what. Do you get that?"

"I get it, boss. Sometimes I just need to be reminded," Tony said quietly, realizing that what Gibbs felt for him really might be unconditional. Maybe Gibbs didn't expect anything more from Tony than for him to be…..well, Tony. He might never see a fairy or a unicorn, or find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, but this….this treasure was just as good.

For the first time in a long time, he really, truly smiled.

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Here you go." Gibbs held out a small duffel bag of clothes.

"I can't believe I get to wear pants again. I'll be right back." Tony grabbed the bag and headed for the bathroom, holding the back of the gown closed with his free hand. His gait was slow, but steady and straight.

Gibbs sat down on the bed and waited. "Uh, boss, I think you made a mistake. These aren't my clothes." DiNozzo poked his head around the door. "Where'd you get this stuff?"

The lead agent couldn't hide his grin. "Quit complaining and get out here."

Tony emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of athletic pants and a Massachusetts Institute of Technology t-shirt. "MIT? Did you borrow this from McGee?"

"Your own clothes are too big; Tim's the only one close to your size right now. So, yeah, he loaned you a few things. They fit pretty good." To be honest, even McGee's clothes were a bit loose on him, but Gibbs didn't think that needed to be pointed out.

"I didn't know I was that skinny. No wonder you people have been so worried about me. As soon as we get back to your place I'm eating some lasagna and a loaf of bread. And maybe a milkshake."

Dr. Mallard and Dr. Shea entered the room. "No, I think not, Anthony. That very statement is the reason you'll be staying with Gibbs for the time being. You must maintain your very strict diet for the next four to six weeks; lots of protein and supplements, but nothing too difficult for you to digest. The meal you just mentioned would make you terribly ill. Instead of lasagna why don't you consider a nice bowl of chicken broth?" Dr. Mallard suggested.

"We wouldn't want me to chew or anything," Tony muttered.

Dr. Shea pointed to the wheelchair he was pushing. "Hop in, Buckeye. It's time to roll on out of here."

"You know, I don't think that's necessary. I mean, I'm doing just fine on the treadmill during physical therapy and my muscles are nice and loose thanks to Nurse Jenny's massages, so I can definitely walk out of here on my own, right? Right?" Tony prompted.

All three of the older man stared at him without answering. "I'll be sitting down in the wheelchair now," he conceded.

"Good choice, DiNozzo," Gibbs stated with a grin. He started to push then stopped. "Oh, I almost forgot something." The lead agent fished around in his jacket pocket and pulled out the black knit skull and crossbones cap. "I found this in the trash; Abby said someone must have accidentally thrown it away since it was a gift from her. And I know_ you_ wouldn't throw away a gift from Abby, would you?" Gibbs tugged the hat over Tony's head while DiNozzo sat in mute horror. "It'll keep your head warm and you won't lose it again." Gibbs patted the top of his head when he was done.

"Thanks for watching out for me, boss," Tony groaned sarcastically.

"Always, DiNozzo. All-ways."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

"Give it some pepper, Tony! You can do it!" Abby cheered from her seat atop a workout bench in the NCIS weight room.

Ziva held the punching bag while Tony gave it as forceful a hit as he could muster. Ziva and the bag barely moved. "In Israel we have little girls who can hit harder than you," the Israeli taunted.

Tony punched at the bag again, his sweaty face showing the amount of exertion it was taking to continue his somewhat feeble boxing session. "Maybe if I aimed for something else instead." He pretended to throw a punch at his pretty partner, who ducked and laughed.

"You could not fight me when you were in the best condition; I certainly think it would not be a good idea now," Ziva pointed out.

Tony shuffled his feet like Muhammad Ali. "Soon I'll be floating like a butterfly and stinging like a bee, David. You just wait."

"Yeah, Ziva, give him a break. The poor guy's still having to borrow clothes from McGee. I mean, Tony without his wardrobe is like…."

"The Greatest American Hero without his red tights and cape?" Tony finished for her.

Abby grinned. "I loved that show! The eighties was the cheesiest decade ever!" She burst into the theme song of the old television program. Tony threw his arm around her shoulders and joined in with the chorus.

_Believe it or not, I'm walking on air, I never thought I could feel so free! Flying away, on a wing and a prayer, who could it be? Believe it or not, it's just me!_

They both broke into laughter as Ziva watched with mild bemusement and raised eyebrows.

"Now all you need are some blonde curls." Abby reached up and rubbed the soft covering of brown hair that had sprouted on Tony's head. For some reason she was compelled to touch it as many times a day as possible.

"Abby, do you have to keep doing that?" Tony asked. "It makes me feel weird."

"I'm sorry, Tony, but you're kind of like a living, breathing Chia pet. I always wanted one when I was a kid and my parents wouldn't get it for me. But now I have you!" She reached out to touch his hair again but he pulled away from her hand.

McGee walked into the workout room. "Quitting already? Maybe next time I can spar with you, Tony."

DiNozzo gave the younger man an incredulous gaze. "Me spar with you? The only reason you're suggesting that is because you might have a weight advantage on me right now. You never want to spar with me."

"I'm just trying to help you get cleared for field duty, Tony. It's not a big deal."

"It is for me, McToothpick! You might want to rock the ultra-skinny emo look, but I need some meat on my bones. I look better when I'm not too thin."

"Who told you that, Tony?" Ziva asked mockingly.

"Lots of women, Ziva. I don't know what you're interested in, but most girls like to think their date can protect them, not get blown over by a gust of wind. Well, your dates probably don't know you could kill them with a butter knife so I guess it's not much of a concern for you. Anyway," he turned his attention back to McGee. "We aren't quite finished, why?"

"Oh, I almost forgot. The director sent me to find you. Said the two of you need to finish a conversation?" McGee looked at him questioningly, obviously curious about what the Director wanted with Tony.

Vance paced into the room. "How long did you plan on keeping me waiting, McGee?"

"Sorry, Director."

"I'm sure you are. Now give me and DiNozzo some time alone." With openly interested gazes the other team members filed from the room.

Vance walked over to the punching bag. "Come on, show me what you got."

Tony ambled after him. "Don't expect much," he apologized before taking several stabs at the bag.

"You at least got the form right; keep at it and your strength will return," Vance commented.

"So they tell me."

"Have you thought any more about my offer? The lead agent in Rota is retiring and I need an answer."

Tony stopped hitting the bag. "You still want me to take Rota? Why? I considered myself lucky to have a job; I can't believe you'd want to give me my own team."

Vance stepped around the bag. "I know what it was like to be in the field, Tony. I have a few horror stories of my own. Most men wouldn't have come through this like you have. It's not difficult to admire your fortitude." He paused. "But I don't expect you to hold a gun on me again."

"No, of course not, Director. I'm really, really sorry for that." He looked down at his feet and turned a little pink around the ears.

"Put it in the past. What I need to know now is what you plan to do about Rota. The assignment is perfect for you."

Tony picked at the gloves he was wearing. Vance reached out and helped to unlace them.

"I might be right for Rota, but is Rota right for me?" Tony shook his head. "I'm staying here, Director. You'll have to find someone else for the position."

Vance handed the gloves to Tony. "I can't tell you I'm surprised."

"A guy like you, who always knew he wanted to be in charge, probably doesn't get a guy like me who's willing to give that up. I want you to understand my decision. It's not that I don't think I'm ready, or that I don't want my own team. It's just that…..right now, this is where I belong."

"Gibbs won't be around forever, Tony. What will you do then?"

Tony smiled. "I guess I'll figure it out. Maybe I'll apply to be Director."

Vance laughed. "You really are one of a kind, DiNozzo."

"Like I haven't been hearing that all of my life."

The older man walked with him to the door. "You really do need to eat something; if Jackie saw you this skinny she'd be cooking you dinner every night. And no matter how tolerable I currently find you that's the last thing I want."

Tony chuckled. "Trust me, with Gibbs on nutrition patrol, I spend half my day eating. I'll be back to my sleek physique before you know it."

"I'm sure all the ladies in evidence will be thrilled."

"You know it."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony was flipping omelets when Gibbs came downstairs, dropping a couple of bags on the floor. DiNozzo glanced over his shoulder as he slid the fluffy eggs out of the pan and onto two plates.

"You didn't slip any cheese in those, did you?" Gibbs asked.

"No, boss, no cheese. Just plain, boring eggs and a few physician approved veggies."

Gibbs picked up a fork and stuffed some in his mouth. "Good. We've got plans this weekend, so you don't need to make yourself sick."

"Plans? What kind of plans?"

The lead agent buttered a piece of toast. "Oh, I was thinking since you're going back to work next week it might be the right time to take a little vacation for the weekend."

"Vacation? You know I've made a solemn vow to never take a vacation again. And I've never known you to take a vacation in your life."

Gibbs crunched his way through the toast. "Well, since your last one was such a bust, I thought you needed a chance to relax before you rejoined the workforce. Trust me; you'll have a good time."

_NCISNCISNCIS_

Tony was lugging enough supplies to go fishing for a week; Gibbs had loaded him down with bait, a six pack of beer in a cooler, chairs, and a backpack of snacks. He was juggling it all as they walked down a trail toward a lake that Gibbs promised held the best trout in the state.

"Are you sure this is a good time, boss? I'm not convinced we're having fun yet, and why am I carrying all the stuff? I thought I was the sick one."

Gibbs kept walking. He was carrying the fishing poles and a small bucket. "If you're ready to go back to work you'll need to carry the gear. Consider it practice."

"Aw, come on, boss. How much farther? I'm getting tired."

"You're worse than a six-year old, DiNozzo. It's right up ahead. Now quit complaining and keep up."

Tony stopped for a minute to catch his breath. He was feeling better, but he still wore out easily, so he thought he deserved a break. He wasn't getting much rest and relaxation yet, but going fishing with Gibbs, no matter what, would be a hell of a lot more fun than his last vacation.

He watched the older man continue steadily down the path. The sun was bright, the sky was blue, and the birds chirped in the trees. It wasn't Rota, but it was enough, and it was exactly where he wanted to be.

"DiNozzo, you coming?" the stern voice called back to him.

Tony stood quietly a few more minutes, enjoying the warmth of the afternoon and waiting for what he knew was coming next. Gibbs didn't disappoint; the voice was louder and tinged with aggravation.

"DiNozzo!"

Tony grinned, picking up the equipment and jogging down the trail. "On your six, boss!"

For this day at least, all was right with the world.


End file.
